Chantal Holmes eats sushi as elegantly as she does everything else. She has mastered the art of using chopsticks, and she’s managed to get by without spilling even a single drop of soy sauce on her pristine white halterneck top.
She pops another piece of sashimi in her mouth with finesse while I fight with my own chopsticks so I can clumsily pick up a California roll.
Damn Adam and his unreasonable dislike of most Asian foods—AKA some of the best food in the world. Due to a serious lack of sushi dates over the years, my chopstick work is subpar, at best.
“Doing okay over there?” Seb interrupts his hockey talk with Mal to look at me with these dorky, soft eyes that make me feel a whole lot of something in my (currently very empty, thanks to said chopstick incompetence) stomach.
“Fabulous,” I say. And I mean it. Because I’m happy as a little clam right now, sitting here with Seb, and his lovely teammate, and his teammate’s lovely wife.
Since we’ve come back from the cabin, I’ve been in total wedded bliss with my extremely flirtatious and loving and sexy to boot husband, who seems to be as obsessed with me as I am with him.
We’ve had the best time together the last couple of days, both at home and at work. And he also took me to visit the brand-new, out-of-this-world wonderful, create-space he gifted me with for Christmas. It’s somehow exactly what I dreamed of, without actually realizing it’s what I wanted. If that makes sense. It’s spacious and flooded with light from big windows, boasting metal countertops and a huge stainless steel fridge and so many appliances, I’ve spent literal hours just trying to catalog it all.
And now, I’m actually looking forward to being back in the family box at tomorrow night’s game, wearing Seb’s name on my back like the proud wifey that I am.
Turns out he could—and did—make a hockey fan of me, after all.
As for the hungry thing… I can always use my fingers to retrieve food when nobody else is watching, right?
“I love sushi,” Chantal says, all smiles as she expertly secures another roll. “Maddie, we should totally organize watch nights for the wives and girlfriends when the guys are playing away. But instead of beer and wings, we’ll have sushi and champagne.”
“I love that idea!”
She leans forward, as if conspiring with me. “I also think it’ll be a good way to help us girls get through the playoff season. Because that’s looking more and more likely now.”
“Hell yeah, it is!” Mal holds up a hand towards Seb, who willingly smacks it. “Playoffs, here we come!”
I have to laugh at their unabashed enthusiasm before turning back to Chantal while also attempting to stab yet another sushi roll with my chopsticks. “What do you mean, help us get through the playoff season?”
“Well, being married to a hockey player is a big enough commitment in itself, and it’s way more intense when the playoffs start. The guys spend more time on the road, more time at practice… they basically eat, sleep and breathe hockey. But making the playoffs this year means the world to Mal. They WILL make it, and I will support my husband one hundred percent.” Chantal sighs sweetly, gazing at her husband. “But… I can’t say I’m super upset that he’s retiring at the end of the season. We’ll get to spend more time together, even if he pursues coaching or sportscasting or something.” Another smile. “In the meantime though, I thought starting a wifey support group slash lonely hearts sushi club would be a nice project during Mal’s final season.”
Chantal picks up another piece of sashimi and pops it into her mouth contentedly. Meanwhile, I’ve given up on my sushi stabbing for the minute as I process her words. Playoffs have seemed so far away… but I guess they’re happening in just a few short months.
Seb, who apparently checked back into our conversation at some point, chuckles deeply. “That’s quite the catchy name. You should get T-shirts made.”
Chantal rolls her eyes at him, laughing, too, and the conversation soon turns to New Year’s Eve. Apparently, it’s a tradition for the team to have a huge party that night. A party at which Tony Torres always lets his hair down.
Mal’s telling an extremely enthusiastic recounting of last year’s party when, after a few too many, Coach Torres sang a “You’re The One That I Want” karaoke duet with Triple J, and I think I might burst my appendix from laughing too hard.
“I can’t wait!” I wheeze at the thought of stern Coach Torres pretending to be Danny from Grease on stage.
“You’ll have to make sure that Seb enjoys the party too, Maddie,” Mal says to me with a wink. “Last year, he only made a quick appearance before going home at 9pm because he had an early morning personal training session. On New Year’s Day!”
“It was important!” Seb protests.
I give him a playful jab in the ribs. “This year, we’ll make sure we’re both there ‘til at least midnight. I love New Year’s Eve, it’s my favorite!”
This draws a chuckle from my husband. “Of course you do, it’s full of the ultimate Hallmark moments—the glamorous parties, the countdown, the kissing at midnight…”
“Well, you both better enjoy it.” Mal reaches for the soy sauce and tops up his little dish. “Because that’s gonna be the last chance for us to have fun until we get through the season and postseason, and win the whole damn thing.”
The glint in Mal’s dark eyes is steely and determined. He’s going to throw everything behind this singular goal.
I recognize that look… I’ve seen it on my own husband many times. These guys are going to do their damndest to win the Stanley Cup this year, and while I’m honored that I get to be the woman behind the scenes, supporting Seb’s shot at victory, Chantal’s right: it’s a big commitment to be married to someone so dedicated to their sport. To their goals.
I pluck a tuna avocado roll from the tray with my fingers and put it all in my mouth, chewing furiously to try and quell the strange sensation suddenly brewing in my stomach.
The holidays were amazing, but Seb has a championship to win. And while I know this, I find that I’m greedy for him—for his time, his attention, the different ways he looks at me like I’m this glorious puzzle he’s having a blast figuring out. I want to spend all my time with him… But I also have to remember that I’m a hockey wife. And though Seb has been balancing his priorities differently lately, his life is still built on hockey.
The glint in Mal’s eyes? That same fire burns in Seb’s every time he talks about what it’s going to take for him to help lead the Cyclones to glory this spring.
And isn’t that why we’re married in the first place? So that he could keep playing hockey and help give the Cyclones a chance at dominating in this year’s playoffs?
Hockey needs to come first for Seb for the foreseeable future. And I will be okay with that.
I take a long gulp of my water and am relieved when the topic changes again to how successful the toy drive was. Chantal drops gossip that Carter Callahan’s wife was puking in the bathroom all evening, fueling rumors that she might be pregnant.
“Wow, that’s great!” I exclaim happily—and I am happy for them.
But I’m also very aware of the spot on my thigh where Seb’s big hand rests. His wedding band glints on his ring finger, and I find that I can’t wait for dinner to be over so I can be alone with my husband. Safe in our little bubble where I can just think about how I’m falling for him, and he’s falling for me, and forget all about reality.
