Status: just beginning;
Secret
the beginning of the end.
Natalie
.Marriage, such a common occurrence in all of our lives, yet such a myth. My marriage was a bit of a myth; it was perfection from the start. We were the couple everyone envied, so naturally, something must be wrong. The problem was, I didn't realize it until now.
The Wells Fargo Center was crowded with orange sweaters. There were people of all ages flooding the stands and every once in a while, you'd find a black and gold Bruins jersey sticking out. From high above in the box seats I was sitting alone, the large group of wives and girlfriend's I'd usually spend my time with were busy discussing a matter I had no intention of learning. The game was going great, Flyer's up by two and with only 7 minutes left in the third period, it was obvious who was going home as a winner. My mind was concentrated on locating my husband, when it was pulled from the crowd of jerseys to the ex-wife of Danny Briere. I never liked her very much, Sylvie had a way of always coming around when blows were delivered.
"Natalie, I'm surprised to see you here with the fiasco going on around your husband." Sylvie said, fake sweetness coating her voice.
"Fiasco?" I asked confusion lacing my voice.
"Well with everything going on in the Twitter world, we'd except you'd be blazing." Sylvie chuckled a bit.
Ignoring her smirk, I dug my iPhone out of the bottom of my purse and began frantically searching Twitter for what she was implying. And right there, before my eyes was the tweet I wished I had never seen.
@BizNasty2point0 weigh in on this. When a girl leans back while fingers r in and says "my daddy would be so proud of me" turn on..or no??.
I knew for a fact it wasn't my daddy he was talking about, and just like Sylvie said, I was blazing.
Storming out of the box, I ran to the nearest bathroom and hid behind a stall while trying to control the tears that were threatening to come out. After the game finished I exited the stall and began cleaning myself off. I looked into the mirror and it seemed as if I just ascended from Hell, my eyes ached at the sight of the bright, orange, sweater. I ripped off the hideous jersey that dawned the blocky white letters that screamed a lie: Carcillo.
After leaving the bathroom, I ran straight to the home team locker room. Going directly to the door, I gave a small smile to the media reporters outside and whispered quickly to security that I needed to speak to my husband because it was an emergency. He let me in without a second thought. Gliding in, I was greeted with the heavy stench of sweat and blood and the screaming shouts of half naked men with winning pride.
"Did you see that win, Nat?" Claude Giroux shouted at me, not even slightly concerned with the fact that I had entered their sacred quarters during a "bro moment".
Not sparing him a glance I walked straight up to my husband, with fire in my eyes.
"Natalie babe, what are you doing wearing just a tank top? You'll freeze!" Dan shouted quickly, turning to grab a sweatshirt from his bag. He turned back to put the sweatshirt on me and I receeded as if his hands were acid.
"What the hell's wrong with you?" Dan asked, offended that I would do such a thing.
"Turn on, or no?" I spat with venom in my voice.
Dan stared as if I was a ghost, completely pale and mouth agape. I'd never seen him so stunned before.
"Not here." He commanded, his warm chocolate eyes turning to steel.
"WHO WAS SHE!" I shouted, not able to control my anger.
He stayed silent as all eyes around the locker room quickly turned to stare at the show before their eyes. Someone even mumbled wanting to pop some popcorn, or pop someone, I can't remember.
"Well, got anything to say enforcer? Pussy got your tongue?" I mocked him, crossing my arms.
Something in him clicked, and just like that, he was in my face, angrier than he's ever been in his life with me.
"Shut your fucking mouth, Natalie. We'll discuss this at home." he said in a dictating voice.
"Home? Fuck that bullshit, no where near you is my home." I retorted, trying to hold back tears of frustration, hurt and betrayal.
"WE'RE NOT DISCUSSING THIS HERE, WHETHER YOU WANT TO OR NOT. NOW GET YOUR ASS IN YOUR CAR AND GO HOME." He shouted, pain and frustration echoing in his voice.
"Fine, but when you get home, I sure as hell won't be." I spat before storming out of the locker room. The players separated as if I were Moses and they were the Red Sea.
I spared one last glance at him before leaving the room to find him running his hands through his outgrown playoff hair and sighing as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. I left the stadium quickly after that, getting in to my car and driving faster than Vin Diesel in Fast and the Furious. By the time I made it home, the tears I was holding back had already fallen. Sparing a few moments to collect myself, I grabbed my keys and walked through the door of our large two story home. I ran straight to our bedroom and pulled out the large suitcase we had under the bed and began to fill it with anything I thought I might need. As I was collecting my toiletries I heard our front door slam, and the sound of heavy footsteps race up the stairs. As I left the bathroom, my toiletries in hand, I ran smack dab into his hard chest.
"Jesus, Natalie! Do you have any idea the fucking fright you gave me?" Dan shouted as I continued my journey to the suitcase sprawled on the bed.
"Are you kidding me, Natalie, you're really going to leave?" he asked as he walked over to the suitcase.
Ignoring him, I whipped out my cell phone and texted the number to a familiar cab company with our address and instructions to the airport. As I set my phone down I looked back up to find Daniel leaned up against our dresser, his head in his hands as I watched the gears behind his chocolate eyes try and assess the damage he has caused.
"Please, please don't leave me." Dan begged, tears escaping his eyes.
"You cheated on me, Daniel, how could you?" I asked the tears leaking from my eyes as well.
"I know I fucked up Nat, I know, but she was just a puck bunny, some college whore hanging around." he tried reasoning with me while I barked out a humorless laugh.
"Just a puck bunny? Is that supposed to make it better or something?" I asked, incredulous.
"I fucked up, I fucked up so bad and I know I can't make it up, but please. Please don't leave. I'll change, I promise I will. I'll go to counseling, I'll do anything you want. Just don't leave." he begged, pulling me into a desperate kiss.
I kissed him back, knowing I needed to savor the taste of him and the feel of his lips against mine before I left for God knows how long. After breaking free, I pulled my wedding rings off my finger and placed them into the palm of his hand. With one final kiss on the cheek, I zipped up my bag, and walked out of his life for what seemed like forever.
♠ ♠ ♠
So this is my first chapter on a wonderful story containing the most amazing men in hockey. Tell me what you think?