All That Matters

“Do you have everything you need?”

“Yep. I’m all set.”

“And you’re sure you don’t want to go back to Halifax?”

“I’m sure, Pooh Bear. I got the rest and relaxation I’d been looking for. It’s back to Minnesota for me.”

My dad was heading back to the cold and snow of my hometown for the rest of the winter. He was the last of our houseguests to leave, flying home on New Year’s Eve. The Crosby clan had stuck around until a couple days after Christmas then headed off to spend time together at home until they had to send Taylor back to school. My Aunt and Grandmother were so ready for the weather in California that they’d been on the first flight out on the day after Christmas and I was certain that they bickered the whole way home.

“Wish I could have seen a little more of your husband,” he said with a grin.

“This summer. I promise.”

Summer would be busy. I was due in July and we had no idea how long the season would go; we hoped it wouldn’t end until June. But it was hard to plan with everything up in the air. Still, Sidney had already told Andy he wouldn’t be training in California and the only side trip he would make would be their annual camp in Vail and I’d been made well aware that the baby and I would be along for the ride. Though he hadn’t yet told his trainer why plans had changed.

He’d taken the advice of his teammates, guys who’d been through it before, and wasn’t about to miss a minute. So while he’d still be training wherever we wound up, most of our time would be spent near family whether in Halifax or Minnesota. There would be no exceptions and he’d hear no arguments about it if they arose.

“Plus, we’ll be in the Midwest this spring and I’m going to make sure to get you out to a few games. We’ll at least manage dinners and stuff.”

I’d be dragging him to the outdoor game at Soldier Field in Chicago. We’d already figured out that we could have dinner the night before they played in Minnesota as long as their flight got there in time meaning we’d see him at least twice in March and April. But I still wished I’d get more time with him.

“You worry too much, Bronwyn. You need to do less of that. It’s not good for you and it’s certainly not good for my grandchild.”

I smiled softly as he sat in the passenger seat of my car.

“I’ll see you when I see you. I’ll be fine. I’m a big boy and I can take care of myself. Plus, someone needs to cheer for Taylor at her games. You just take care of yourself and the future NHL superstar you’re working on.”

“We don’t know that we’re having a boy.”

“That’s almost two-decades down the road, who says it has to be a boy?”

I laughed lightly as he leaned over and kissed me on the head. I didn’t really want him to leave. I’d enjoyed having him around, but I knew that it would have to happen eventually.

“Remember to let Sid take care of you when he wants to. It’s good for a man’s ego when his wife asks for his help. Even if you just let him open a jar or buy you a gift without arguing with him.”

“Have a good trip, Daddy.”

“I will, sweetheart.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

He didn’t reply as he grabbed his luggage and headed for the airport doors.

The day went by slowly. It was painfully quiet and I felt the need to stay as busy as I could. I filled my time in the early hours of the day with doing laundry and changing the sheets in every bedroom. I cleaned out the refrigerator and picked up after the people who had been staying in our house.

I pulled the ultrasound picture out of the junk drawer in the kitchen and slapped it back on the front of the fridge and waited for the game to start come afternoon.

Then, I waited patiently for the boys to get back to Pittsburgh in time to ring in the New Year. Though Sidney and I had nothing planned for the evening, no real celebrating to get to, I was more than happy to see him when he got home that night with a bottle of sparkling grape juice that he insisted we share when the ball dropped on TV.

I’d been able to kiss him at midnight to ring in twenty-thirteen, but twenty-fourteen was different. I was his, completely and he was mine. We weren’t going back and forth trying to define our relationship. I’d loved him the year before, I’d loved him since just weeks after I’d met him, but the first New Year’s kiss we shared had been lacking something.

The setting hadn’t been lacking, a snowy night at the lake house. We’d stayed in, spending the night alone and away from his family for the first time since we’d been there. It had been plenty romantic, though celebrated an hour before anyone back in Pittsburgh or Boston. We didn’t see the ball drop in Times Square.

We drank red wine and ignored the world and I swore I got dizzy when his lips enveloped mine when the clock struck twelve.

But it paled in comparison to the way he kissed me as the ball dropped in New York and the scene in Times Square played out on the television screen as we watched from the home we shared.

Maybe it was the fact that the only lights came from the Christmas tree, the television, and a few candles. Maybe it was the way his eyes glowed gold in the dim light. Maybe it was the lack of alcohol or the way my hormones made every sense feel heightened. Maybe it was simply because I was married to the man who was kissing me. But when he kissed me and in the slow build of the hours that followed, there was nothing in the world that felt so perfect.

“Are you going to make a resolution this year?” I asked as I curled up against him in bed.

It was well past midnight, hours into a brand new year that was going to be one of our most challenging as far as I could assume. Twenty-fourteen had a lot in store for us of that I was certain.

I felt him shrug. “I’m not much for resolutions,” he said softly, breathing into my hair.

He’d told me much the same thing the year before. I’d felt silly and didn’t wind up telling him what I’d resolved to do.

“You?”

“I make one every year.”

“Really?”

I nodded.

“You never told me that.”

“It felt silly.”

“Why? Because I’m not into it?”

“I guess.”

He pulled me tighter. “Did you succeed with your last resolution?”

“I think I did a pretty good job.”

“What was it?”

“Like I said, it was silly.”

“It isn’t silly. You can tell me.” He paused and reconsidered his statement. “I want you to tell me.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

I sighed and pulled in a deep breath. He smelled like soap, but his skin still gave off the distinctively spicy scent that I’d always loved. For a time I’d assumed it was his cologne, but it was just the way he smelled. At least it was the way that he smelled to me, and it warmed me to the core.

He’d stopped wearing cologne, the scent too much for my suddenly super-powered olfactory to handle. He hadn’t batted an eye when I asked. He just joked that I was saving him a step in his post-shower routine.

“Last year I resolved to be less afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“Us.”

He didn’t respond and the word hung above us for a moment. It sounded odd, but it was the truth.

“I figured out that I was scared of how much I loved you; how much you loved me.”

“Which is why you were so resistant to the idea of moving her for so long.”

“It had an impact on the decisions I made.”

“But then you agreed to move in.”

“Pretty early in the year, I must say,” I replied, referring to the night of Skates and Plates, the night he’d outed us to more than one of his teammates.

“Successful resolution.”

“It was a big one for me. More ballsy than I usually go for. I tend to try to go for the attainable. Watch less reality TV. Eat less chocolate. Lose five pounds.”

“Well, you don’t need to be losing weight, that’s for sure.”

His hand slid from my back to my side, the motion slow and smooth. His thumb, broad and warm, came to a rest upon my stomach. I hadn’t begun to show yet, but it wouldn’t be long. But the lack of a visible change in my body hadn’t stopped him from paying attention to my abdomen whenever we were on our own and away from prying eyes.

“What’s your resolution this year?”

“I’m still considering my options.”

We should have been asleep. We’d opted out of the big party at Geno’s house, though he lived only a few minutes from us. The boys had been on the road since our short Christmas break had come to an end. I’d spent the days since they’d left shuttling our families around Pittsburgh and took each of them to the airport in turn. Otherwise I’d spent the time trying to make sure that I got our house back into the shape we liked it to be in.

In that moment, my only real resolution was to fall asleep in his arms for the first time in nearly a week. From there I intended to spend as much time in bed as was humanly possible. It was the way I wanted to start the beginning of a new year; as relaxed and comfortable as possible.

“Any frontrunners?”

“Less stress. Cut back a little on custom work. Focus a little more on stuff at home.”

“Focus on yourself, maybe?”

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt.”

“No, it wouldn’t hurt a bit. You’re always thinking about our families and friends and work. You should spend more time on yourself.”

“You know I suck at that.”

“Work on it. Go get a massage or a manicure. Have lunch with Sebastian and make him drink the margaritas that you can’t. You could have a girl’s day with Vero.”

“In other words, spend your money.”

“Our money,” he corrected. “Yes, spend it. We can’t take it with us. I spend it. I take the team out for dinner and buy new suits that I don’t really need. I spend enough at 412 and Lululemon to keep them in business. I don’t want you to ever feel guilty for treating yourself. You never do and you deserve it.

“I feel guilty when you don’t do it. People think that player’s wives have it easy with the money and the summers off. Hell, most of them don’t work. But it isn’t that simple. Plus, you don’t just sit at home doing nothing. You keep this place running and keep me together while still doing your job. It’s not going to get any better when the baby comes, so enjoy it while you can. Do it while the time is there and it still belongs to you.”

He made a good point. More than one, really.

“Okay. Less stress it is. I will take time to relax and enjoy myself before the baby comes.”

“And I resolve to make sure you are less stressed.”

“How will you do that?”

“I’ll do my own laundry.”

“Bullshit.”

“Fine. I’ll cook my own pregame lunches.”

“No you won’t.”

“Clean the house?”

“Ha.”

“Do the shopping alone?”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Christ. Do I do anything around here?”

“You take the garbage out when you’re home. And sometimes you load the dishwasher but you tend to forget to unload it.”

“What would I do without you?”

“You’d either have a maid and a cook or you’d still live with Mario.”

“You have a point.”

“And you still don’t have a resolution.”

“Yes, I do. Less stress for you. That’s still my resolution.”

“You say that, but you still haven’t said how you think you’re going to pull it off.”

“I’ll make a statement.”

“A statement? Like what? A tattoo? Not washing your hair like Nealer?”

He laughed. “No. A public statement. I know you stress about the secrecy and really it stresses me out too. I want my private life to be private, but I know it might make people ease up with the questions if they have a little information to work with.”

“I don’t want you to feel pressured to do that, Sid. It’s your career. Your career is about the game, not your wife.”

“Someone needs to tell the media that.”

I ran my hand along the planes of his chest. “Really. Don’t feel like you have to do it.”

“Until I do, they will keep focusing on my mysterious, nameless wife.”

“You do whatever you need to do.”

He kissed the top of my head.

“I love you, Bronwyn Abigail Crosby.”

“Doyle-Crosby.”

“I still can’t believe you hyphenated your name.”

“At least our kids will just be Crosbys.”

“Will they?”

“Yup.”

“How old-fashioned of you,” he teased.

“Well, I’d hoped you’d take my name, but Sidney Doyle just doesn’t have the same ring to it. And think of all of the jerseys that people would have to get the nameplates changed on. They’d riot.”

He laughed again, his chest vibrating against my ear.”

“Happy New Year, honey.”

“Happy New Year.”

The first month of our new year passed quietly. I spent my time stocking up on pieces so I could slow down as time progressed. A few players and wives had commissioned pieces and I worked through them one by one, not rushing through them.

I was doing what I could to stick to my resolution. I’d been to have a massage and Vero and I had slipped off one afternoon to fill up on a hearty lunch and go get pedicures. It was a relief, a chance to be out on our own without any pressure while the boys spent the early hours of an off-day with Estelle.

Marc and Sid were perfectly happy staying with Marc and Vero’s pride and joy. Frankly, Sid seemed to be happier about it than Marc was.

Vero noticed and mentioned it over lunch.

“He’s getting excited about the whole baby thing, isn’t he?”

“I caught him browsing the Babies-R-Us site the other day.”

“What was he looking at?”

“Strollers, but I’m pretty sure he’d been at it for a while. I came in the room and he closed his laptop like a teenage boy caught looking at porn.”

She giggled, the soft French lilt of her voice evident even in her laughter.

“Marc’s already talking about having another.”

“Sid’s always said you guys have talked about wanting a big family.”

“Eventually. We’ve finally got Estelle sleeping through the night and don’t get me wrong, he’s a great father, but for him she is like a plaything. I am home with her and up with her. I nurse her when she isn’t well and do the big jobs when it comes to keeping her alive.”

“And you want more time before the next one.”

“Absolutely. He can talk all he wants, but he’s going to have to wait a while.”

I laughed.

“How about you, Bronwyn? How have you been feeling?”

“Overwhelmed, but I’m well past the panic.”

She nodded.

“Hubby mentioned the panic?”

“He may have said something to Marc who said something to me. But I would never—“

“I know, Vero. It’s fine. I never worry about you being a gossip.”

“But you’re feeling better?”

“Much. The fact that Sid is so excited helps. He’s not the only one who’s browsed the websites and read the books.”

“He’s read the books?”

“He’s skimmed a couple. I’m not sure he’s read any end to end, but he has certainly been looking through them. He said something the other day, some little fact about the week I was in and I almost laughed. I just hadn’t been expecting it.”

“He really likes to know everything he can about the things he gets involved in.”

“That’s for sure.”

“I hope you know how happy we are for you,” she said as she took a sip of her iced tea.

“I know. And we appreciate it.”

“So is he really going to finally talk about it?”

“I guess so. Not the baby, but I think he’s going to tell the media about us. Give them a little information to chew on.”

“When will he make the announcement about the baby?”

“Probably when the baby is in kindergarten.”

She laughed openly.

I was glad to be following up on things, spending time on myself and enjoying that time with a friend while Sidney and Marc held down the fort.

It was to the point that I wasn’t minding the task of keeping myself relaxed.

Sidney was trying to do his part, but as February approached, he was struggling with stress of his own. And it was more than understandable. I was surprised that it had taken so long for the stress to set in and start to get to him.

He always put an intense amount of pressure on himself and it was wearing on him as the Olympics approached. More often than not, he didn’t want to talk about it at home and he would find a way to change the subject to me or the baby. He’d gladly discuss the way things were going at Shattuck for Taylor and the schools that she was interested in come fall. But he didn’t want to talk about the things that were going on in his head.

It was the morning before the final game before the Olympic break when I found him in the bathroom overdoing his hair gel in the way that he did when his nerves were bad.

“Whoa,” I muttered as I walked into the bathroom.

“What?” he snapped before he turned to look at me.

I was in the middle of getting dressed, my jeans on but nothing but my bra concealing my torso. His eyes softened and his shoulders slumped slightly as I cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Sorry, honey.”

“It’s okay,” I replied as he turned back towards the mirror. “Mind telling me what has you all worked up?”

I stepped up behind him and placed a hand on his back and rubbed slow circles across the fabric of his button-down.

“Is it the same reason you’re putting a suit on before practice?”

“Most of a suit,” he replied as he gestured towards his jeans.

“Sidney.”

“Maybe.”

His hands fell still, landing on the counter in front of him. I reached for his arm and turned him slightly.

“You can tell me while I fix your hair.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“You’ve got it slicked down too much. You look like you need glasses and a pocket protector to complete your outfit.” I guided him towards the toilet and pushed him down onto the lid. “Sit.”

He obeyed and I dug my fingers into his hair, breaking up the mess he’d made of his short curls. He seemed hesitant to speak.

“Alright, Canada. Tell me what’s going on.”

He sighed, slouching slightly.

“I talked to Pat.”

“And?”

“I decided it was time to make a statement. We figured it was best to get it out in the open before I head to Russia and it’s kind of my last shot. We have a game tomorrow and I don’t want to take that from the guys. I discussed it with them and they were all cool with me saying something on the day off.”

“Nothing like waiting until the last minute.”

He placed his hands on my hips and pulled me closer, resting his ear against my stomach. My form was just beginning to expand, but it was something only the two of us noticed. No one else would know by looking at me.

My hands shifted, one remained in his hair and the other fell to his shoulder.

“You don’t have to do this, Sidney.”

“Yes, I do.”

“And you’re making a statement to the media?”

“Yeah. Pat and Ray think I should release a photo too. Give them something concrete to consider. Something to pick apart I guess.”

“You should.”

“I’m not going to say much, just that we got married at the lake last August. Finally give up your name so the people on the internet will stop making names up.”

“You can drop the Doyle. Just Bronwyn Crosby is fine.”

I felt his lips curl into a smile against my skin as his eyes fluttered closed. His eyelashes tickled my skin.

“I like the sound of that.”

“Are you bummed that I didn’t just take your name?”

He glanced up at me through the curtain of his dark lashes. “No. I just like to tease you. I know it makes you feel close to your folks. I’d never hold that against you. I’d be fine if you wanted our kids to have both of our names.”

“I don’t. I want them to have your name.”

“I know.”

He relaxed and closed his eyes again.

“I’m not going to tell them about the baby. I haven’t changed my mind about that.”

“That’s fine.”

“Later.”

“Okay.”

He shifted, opening his eyes momentarily before letting them close as he pressed his lips to the flesh just below my naval.

“They don’t need to know about you. You’re just for us,” he murmured against my skin.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“It’s probably better if you stay home.”

“Whatever you want to do.”

He wrapped his arms around my hips, pulling me close. I let my fingers run through my hair.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “Thank you for letting me handle this my way.”

“Of course,” I replied as I urged him to his feet. “Now, give me a kiss and get out of here before you’re late and they make a big deal out of it.”

His energy was low when he left and I felt a pang of sadness for him.

He wanted to be one of the guys and generally he was when he was in the room with them. But he was Sidney Crosby, savior of the Penguins, face of the NHL, and well-behaved media darling. There wasn’t another player in the league who would be expected to make a statement when he got married or had a child.

In that respect, he didn’t get to be one of the guys. He was treated differently.

It was taking him back to the attention that had been on him during his recovery from the concussion. The press conferences that just had to happen because a statement from the front office wouldn’t suffice.

Not when Sidney Crosby was involved.

I avoided the internet while he was away. I didn’t want to hear their questions or listen to his rehearsed responses. He was certainly genuine with the media, but everything he said was measured and the Sidney that I knew was rarely truly present. I had no need to watch. I knew my name and he’d told me which picture he was going to release to them. There was nothing I could learn from the media aside from how to ask the same question thirteen different ways.

I worked on a piece for Estelle’s room to fill my time.

I knew Sidney would linger at the rink. He’d workout and skate while he was there. He’d find something to talk to Dan or Ray about. He’d stay long after the media left just to keep himself busy. It was the way he dealt with stress and worry and he was feeling both about leaving for Sochi.

My phone buzzed in my pocket and I answered without looking to see who it was.

“Are you watching hubby gush about you?” Sebastian asked as I picked up.

“Gush? Really?”

“Well, no.”

“I take it you’re watching?”

“They keep asking him where you’ll be during the games.”

Minnesota. That was the answer.

“What did he say?”

“Just that wherever you were you’d be watching.”

I laughed softly.

“Still planning on going to see your dad?”

“Flying out at the end of the week. I’d be lonely here with him so far away. Dad and I will get some time together and watch the games. It will keep me distracted.”

We wouldn’t be able to talk much, that was something we already knew. Sochi was ten hours ahead of Minnesota and that time difference would be something that we felt the impact of. His spare time would be spent practicing and bonding with other athletes and that was exactly where his attention needed to be.

“Would you rather be eating knish and watching the games in Russia?”

“Yeah.”

“But you won’t be.”

“I don’t want Sidney to worry.”

“Why would he worry?”

“Because the idea of international travel while pregnant, while generally safe, makes him uncomfortable.”

“What doesn’t make him uncomfortable?”

“I just don’t want to argue with him about it.”

“You should argue with him about it.”

“I’ll be fine in Minnesota, Bastian.

“It must really make him uneasy if you’re this quick to just agree to hang out in Minnesota with your dad.”

“It does. Geno joked the other day about teaching me Russian and Sidney got really tense over it. Snapped at G and told him I wasn’t going to be in Russia. It’s mostly because he’s so stressed out.”

“He gets that that makes you stressed, right?”

“That’s why he’s still at the rink.”

“Still? Didn’t he do the media availability a while ago?”

“This morning. He’s going to be there as long as he can. He’ll be there all day before the Rangers game tomorrow too.”

“Will you see him before he leaves for Russia?”

“For a little while. I’ll see him tonight and in the morning. Plus I’ll be at the game and I’ll make sure to see him before he leaves.”

Sebastian grew quite.

“What?”

“How are you going to handle two weeks with him that far away?”

It was actually going to be longer than two weeks but I didn’t want to think about his absence. I was more interested in thinking about the way things would be when he got home. Regardless of if they medaled, regardless of whether he dominated or led the way he wanted to, regardless of if he came home with a gold medal; the day after his plane landed back in Pittsburgh, he would accompany me to the doctor.

We’d put off the appointment to find out the sex of the baby until the day he returned home. I didn’t want to go without him. I didn’t want to find out with him so far away. I wanted him to see what I saw when I saw it.

I was just trying to focus on his return home.

It just wasn’t going to be easy.

“It’s going to suck,” I admitted. “But the thing is, he’s doing what he loves and he has another amazing opportunity to play for his country. There are going to be limited chances to do that, to go out there for Canada and give it his all. It’s a big deal and I can’t think about myself when he’s over there working his ass off.”

Sebastian didn’t seem to have anything to say in return.

“How was he during the announcement?” I asked.

“You really don’t want to watch?”

“Not at all.”

“He seemed a little uncomfortable. It was pretty rehearsed and he only took a couple of questions. But he looked relieved when it was over. He gave them your name, the wedding date, not much else. He just asked that they respect your privacy and his by refraining from making interviews about his personal life.”

He’d done just what he planned to do. I too was relieved by it.

“Thanks, Bastian.”

“Anytime, Wynnie. You doing anything for lunch today?”

I smiled. “Actually, I think I’m going to track down my husband.”

“That sounds like a really good idea. We’ll do something when you get back from the Falls.”

“Deal,” I murmured before heading towards the bedroom to change into clothes that I could leave the house in.

I never visited Consol unannounced. It wasn’t that I couldn’t, Mario had made it clear that I was welcome and Sidney was much the same way. It was especially relaxed given the fact that it was an off day, there were no fans, no crowds to contend with, but I didn’t want to walk in all alone either.

I pulled into the garage and parked, spotting Evgeni’s car down the row from Sidney’s. I texted him quickly, asking him to send someone to the garage, that I was there to surprise Sid. It was only a few minutes before he popped behind my car, a wide grin taking up his face.

“I said to send somebody.”

“I’m somebody,” he retorted and tossed an arm around my shoulder.

“That you are. Somebody who better hope his girlfriend doesn’t see you with your arm around another girl.”

He chuckled. “Not scared.”

“Something tells me you should be.”

“Why you surprise Sid?”

“Way to change the subject,” I replied as he led me towards the entrance. He shrugged. “I want to surprise him because he made a bold move today and I’m not going to see much of him until he gets back from Russia. I just want to spend some time and remind him of how much I appreciate him.”

“He loves you whole lot.”

“I know he does, G.”

“We all like.”

“Me? You all like me?”

“Yeah.”

I smiled and shoved him playfully. “Thanks.”

“It truth. But why you not come to Russia?”

“Somebody has to hold down the fort out this way. I’ll be in Minnesota. Spend time with my dad, see his sister. I’ll keep myself busy like I always do.”

“You would like Russia.”

“You seem to think everyone on earth would like Russia.”

“I like Russia.”

“You’re Russian.”

“I can still teach you.”

“I know a few words.”

“Only bad ones.”

I laughed. “Fine, I shouldn’t use the few words I know in public. Maybe someday I’ll let you teach me some Russian. But I’m not going to be in Sochi so it isn’t important right now.”

He looked disappointed.

We’d wound up standing near the dressing room, the doors wide open.

“Is Sid in there?”

“No. On ice.”

“Of course he is.”

“You want skate?”

“No, I’m a terrible skater.”

“You should skate.”

He pulled me into the room hollering for Dana. I closed my eyes in case anyone in the room was less than decent. They’d had an optional skate after Sid’s little announcement and while the rest of the few men who had showed were in the room, Sidney wasn’t.

“Hey, Mrs. Crosby!” Beau hollered in my direction.

“You’re still in trouble from Christmas,” I warned.

“It’s been months.”

“I hold grudges.”

“Bortz was the one who revealed the secrets.”

“You were the one flirting with Sid’s seventeen year old sister.”

“I wasn’t flirting,” he argued.

I rolled my eyes. “You were flirting.”

“Was not. I was being friendly.”

“You don’t know how to just be friendly,” Paul argued from his seat across the room.

Dana came around a corner with a pair of skates he’d dug up from the back and a smile on his face.

“Seriously?” I asked of no one in particular.

I heard the distinct sound of James Neal’s laugh as he wandered into the room with a towel draped over his hips.

“What’s so funny?”

“I’m just certain that this is where Sid wants to find his wife. In the room with a bunch of half-naked hoodlums.”

“Hoodlums who are trying to get me to skate. I can’t even walk in those things.”

He shook his head and took a seat along the wall. “Put ‘em on and have G carry you out there.”

Geno commanded that I sit down and I took my spot in Sid’s stall as he helped me lace up. I didn’t argue as he tossed me up over his shoulder and carried me towards the tunnel. I could hear Sidney as we got closer. He was out on the ice alone, the sound of his blades cutting through the ice and his stick against the puck seemed to echo through the empty space.

“Sid!” Geno yelled as we exited the tunnel.

I laughed as I heard a few of the guys laughing, I could only assume that they’d followed us into the tunnel, but my only view was of Evgeni Malkin’s backside.

“What?” Sid called over his shoulder. I could tell that he hadn’t so much as turned to look towards us.

“You have package!”

I heard the sound of Sidney putting on the brakes and turning to face the bench where his teammate was standing with me over his shoulder.

“Why are you carrying my wife around like a sack of flour?” he asked as he skated to a stop just feet from us.

“You know by ass?”

“I know that ass well.”

“Geno, put me down.”

He obeyed but kept his hands on my waist to keep me from losing my balance on the skates.

“I wanted to come see you. I knew you’d hide out here all day if you could so I decided to not let you hide from me. The skates were the big Russian’s bright idea.”

“Good idea, Big Russian.”

Geno laughed.

“Bad idea. I can’t skate.”

“I can.”

He nodded towards Evgeni who slipped away without a word. Sid stepped up and wrapped his arms around my waist, holding me upright. He wasn’t in his gear, just a tracksuit. He’d likely been messing around more than anything, just killing time.

“Did you watch?”

“Didn’t need to.”

“You really should come skate with me.”

“Bad ankles.”

“I won’t let you fall. The media knows who you are now. They’d have a heyday and they’d even get your name right.”

“But would they spell it correctly?”

“It’s in the press release that Pat made up with the picture for print media if they want to use it.”

“If I let you take me for a spin on the ice, a slow one with no actual spinning, will you join me for lunch? Spend a little time before you leave?”

“I’m not avoiding you.”

“You may not feel like you are, but by being here on a day off, that’s exactly what you’re doing. You feel bad because you asked me to stay behind and you’re not sure if making a public announcement was the right thing to do. You’re doing what you do when you’re stressed.”

“And that is?”

“Focus on every miniscule aspect of your game because sometimes you feel like the way you play is the only thing in the world that you can control.”

He gave me a sheepish grin.

“If you come out on the ice with me, I will join you for lunch and I’ll come home and not leave your side until I leave for morning skate tomorrow.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal. Just don’t let me fall.”

His eyes locked on mine. “Never.”