Page 74 of The Game Plan

Sienna laughs nervously, cheeks flushing, but I don’t wade in to ease her embarrassment because she should hear how incredible she looks tonight. Always.

“You saw the video,” Sienna says, now wincing. “I’m so sorry, Mrs Harris. What happened in Vegas—” She glances to me and something passes between us. Something that makes my stomach leaden because I think, possibly, she’s going to tell Mom the truth.

My eyes widen – here? Now?

“It caught us both off guard,” she says. “Certainly me. Neither of us took that trip intending to leave married at the end of it and deprive our families of the chance to celebrate with us.”

TJ pipes up from somewhere behind me. “For the record, I celebrated with them!”

I thrust an elbow back and connect with him, enjoying the deserved yelp of pain he lets out in response.

Mom seems to calm, still holding Sienna’s hands, then says, “I appreciate that, sweet pea. And I’d love to talk about how we can celebrate with you both here in New York. Or wherever you and your mom might like if out of state.”

In a way that’s wholly unlike the woman I’ve come to know, Sienna bites down on her gums, eyes filling, and nods. “I’d like that,” she croaks, then our eyes connect and I’m hit by an impending sense of loss. Mourning, I think, the relationship that doesn’t really exist, that has grown from one inebriated night out, that I desperately wish had been real.

Who even am I?

“But sweet pea, don’t call me Mrs Harris. I’m Abby or Mom, okay?”

Sienna nods, then Mom reaches up to Sienna’s eye with her thumb. “Don’t cry, otherwise you’ll make me cry, then we’ll both ruin our makeup.”

They hug and though she’s startled by the intimacy at first, Sienna’s eyes close softly and I think she means it, she needs it. Something contorts deep, deep in my core.

“Now,” Mom says. “If our boy could go fetch us ladies a glass of fizz…” Mom eyeballs me. “We can sit down and you can tell me all about Las Vegas.”

Good luck, I think; we hardly remember.

Then Sienna says, “Well, some of the details are a little hazy but I think it started with an outlandish quaff, hugely bushy sideburns and an electric-blue jumpsuit.”

I guffaw. “You made a pretty cute Marilyn to my Elvis,” I tell her.

“And I am reliably informed, there was a lot of kissing,” she goes on, chuckling when I raise my eyebrow. Then I slope off to do as instructed and get the three most important women in my life more champagne.

* * *

I should work the room, make sure my picture is taken with the high-ups at the charity, represent the Dragons, chat to potential sponsors. Drink. That’s what I’d typically do at these things.

Tonight, though, I don’t. I sit at our designated table with my brother on one side of me, chatting hockey and life because I didn’t realize until now that I’ve been missing him on the road. We’d usually share a room together and, though everyone thinks we’re two jokers, it’s obvious to me now that behind our closed hotel room door is where we chew the fat, put the world to rights. TJ is my best friend. Always has been. Even though our sister is a close second. Often, he knows what I need and what I’m feeling before I do. He’s intuitive and he gets me.

The whole time we’re talking, Mom, Sas and Sienna are deep in conversation, and my fingers are interlaced with hers, our hands resting on her thigh. It’s the smallest thing. PDA for appearances, I know.

But it’s not fake on my part.

I can’t believe the transformation of my mindset in six and a half weeks – from bachelor to pining and lovesick – but it’s happening, it’s happened. I want this. My wife holding my hand at the dinner table, while she and my family get along like Diane sauce to a steak, as if she’s always been in our Harris fold. My brother at my side and Dad… meh, off doing his thing, schmoozing and not breathing down my neck about how I need to change my game or my attitude to life.

I want a kid or two to teach hockey to – the right way, through enjoyment not fear, force and resentment – maybe a couple dogs to walk in the woods. Because I’ll have a house in the woods with a lake that freezes over in winter. A base in the city for Sienna’s work and my broadcasting or coaching career. Maybe I coach the Dragons.

Holy fuck.

The thoughts are big and new and yet not scary at all, so they aren’t the reason TJ tells me… “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I have,” I tell him as people disperse to their dinner tables and I’m exposed to a clear view of my dad in conversation with Carl. “Is he fucking kidding me?”

TJ follows my view. I know because he mutters, “For fuck’s sake, Dad.”

I guess the way my hand tightens around Sienna’s makes her aware, too. “Hey,” she tells me, turning in her seat to look at me. “They know each other through business. It’s not worth your anger, okay?”

I am angry. Angry that Carl ever had my girl and ever dared to cheat on her. Furious that Dad knows who Carl is and part of me wonders if he’s in that conversation to piss me off or show me who’s boss, still, after twenty-six years. And really fucking pissed that they’re now both looking our way and I have the sinking feeling that Carl is giving his take on our relationship to Dad. The same opinion, I’m sure, that he gave Mantel at the immigration office when he tried to get Sienna’s visa cancelled.