Page 116 of Ruin The Friendship
There are a few different designs: some with the MBH logo, others with cheeky sayings, but one tucked behind all the others catches my eye instantly. It’s a turquoise blue to match the color the boys wear at home games, and it has two hockey sticks crossed on the front.
In block letters, the shirt reads: ‘My favorite hockey player is my Daddy.’
I gasp as I pull it off the rack. The fabric is soft under my fingers as I trace over the printed words.
Grace steps up behind me. “Find anything good?”
I jump, not expecting her to appear behind me, and I hold the onesie to my chest. “Yeah. I did.”
“Let me see.” She extends her hand.
I give her the onesie, also spotting another one out of the corner of my eye. This one is long-sleeved and looks like a jersey. It has Fletcher’s number on the sleeves and the back, along with his last name. So obviously, I need that one, too.
“Aww, Lydia, this is adorable,” Grace coos, running her hand over the words. “It’s perfect.”
I smile as I look at the items, overwhelmed with emotion. Everything locks into place. It feels right. Baby girl kicks the side of my stomach, like she’s telling me I’mmaking the correct choice for us. I smooth a hand over the spot.
I know, baby. We’ve got a good one.
Grace passes the onesie back to me, and I lay it over my arm with the other one. I grab a baby-sized beanie with the Herons logo and head to the register.
“What are you doing?” Grace asks curiously. “You know you could get one of the guys to get these for you tomorrow.”
“I know, but I need this now.”
I can’t explain it, but if I walk away from this store empty-handed, I’ll feel like I’m leaving a piece of me here.
Grace rubs my shoulder. “Alright, Mama.”
Tears burn behind my eyes as I check out, rolling up the onesies to hide what they say. I need to wrap these up so I can give them to Fletcher.
We head back to the suite, where I tuck the bag under my seat, then I refill my popcorn. I’ve eaten more popcorn than anything else in the last twenty-four hours, and my stomach may hate me later, but right now, I’m in bliss. Fletcher brought me home another massive bag of popcorn last night after they picked up Adam from the airport, and I almost cried. I was so excited. He’s been bringing it home any chance he can.
Last night was a lot of fun, but I’m definitely not made for late nights anymore as this pregnancy progresses. I was ready for bed by eight o’clock. Fletcher saw how much I was yawning, and we left soon after. He always notices the little things. I was happy to stay a while longer so he could have fun with our friends, but he was insistent.
The period starts, and we all settle in for one final stretch, hoping we can snatch the win. It’s been a close, tense game, but I think we can do it.
Adam scores with a few minutes left, bringing us up by one, and hopefully clinching the win. The last thirty seconds of the game fly by as Trigg makes an amazing save. Dylan cheers, throwing his fist in the air. He and Hattie both have brand new Aadland jerseys on, courtesy of Trigg. My Graff jersey doesn’t fit over my bump anymore, so I have on one of my comfy MBH sweatshirts that has Fletcher’s name and number on the back. Not quite the same, but it works for now. Maybe I’ll get a bigger one so I can wear a jersey during the playoffs.
In the past, when we’ve made it to the playoffs, Grace, Zoey, and I have gone to every home game, and I’m sure this time won’t be any different, depending on when I deliver. This time, we’ll have to make sure Hattie and Dylan are present as well.
The game ends, and the boys all skate onto the ice, all giving goalie taps to Trigg and celebrating the win. We hang back in the suite while the boys do press, and once the arena is empty, we make our way down.
My phone rings as we show our badges to take the elevator and be let into the tunnel.
My mom.
I don’t know why, but I answer the call. She’s only going to sour my mood, but with the baby shower being this upcoming weekend, I’m sure she has things to discuss with me.
“Hi,” I answer. “What’s up?”
“Are you ready for this weekend?” she asks without preamble.
“Yeah! I’m really excited. I think it will be fun.”
“What are you going to wear?” Her tone shifts slightly.
Where is this going?
