All That Matters

The reality set in as the weeks moved forward. We had a lot of work to do and we didn’t necessarily have that much time to do it. I hit my twenty-sixth week as the regular season started to wind down and the boys were at the top of the East.

I started work on the nursery but there was plenty that still needed to be done. The paint cans sat unopened in the nursery, but the tarp was laid down to protect the hardwood floors. I stopped in the doorway on the morning of the final game of the regular season, the third game in a week of home games to finish the season.

They’d beaten the Flyers the previous afternoon and I’d managed to lay down the tarp when we got home, but I hadn’t been up to doing much else. But I knew that I would have to start working on it soon. I’d been sketching ideas between projects and my workload was slowing considerably. I just felt like I had to be in the right mood to do it.

The nursery had been a point of contention for us. Sidney wanted something lavish. His first thought when we started discussing the room was to do something outrageous. He wanted the room fit for a princess but I thought it was too much. I didn’t want the frills and the fuss. I wanted something simple. Something soft and comforting and not too busy; an oasis of sorts. I didn’t want it to be too terribly pink or sparkly. A little bit of both was okay, but I didn’t want anything over the top.

In that way, Sebastian agreed with my husband. He too wanted glamor and glitz and the thought of it made me nauseous. I’d grown more than tired of their ideas when they started banding together and looking at chandeliers. It was a tacky idea and even if we did end up hiring a housekeeper after the baby arrived, all I could think about was the dust that would gather in the fancy light fixture and heavy drapery and the nooks and crannies of ever overly-detailed piece of furniture the two of them liked.

I’d decided to make the choice for myself. I’d spent a day during their road trip in early march painting the room grey, but I hadn’t gotten any further. I knew what I was going to paint, but I just hadn’t gotten started.

I’d only painted a few murals in my life. One still graced the wall outside the music room in my middle school. But I was feeling a little inadequate when it came to making sure what I painted was something that would be perfect for our daughter.

Somehow all Sidney and I could agree on was that we wanted things to be perfect. We just weren’t sure what perfect was. We couldn’t decide on the perfect theme for her room. We couldn’t agree on the perfect name or even a starting point to pick one. We couldn’t even agree on the carseat that we’d bring her home from the hospital in.

We could only agree that every detail had to be just right.

I felt him wrap his arms around me, his hands coming to a rest upon the more considerable swell of my abdomen. She was almost impossible to hide, but I was doing my best with empire waist dresses and a baggy Crosby sweater on the tougher days, the days where I felt bloated and conspicuous. I took in most games in the owner’s box with Mario and Nathalie and rarely lingered anywhere after a game. Once in a while I would risk sitting in the stands or wander over to the family suite on nights that the kids were around. But that wasn’t as common as my nights tucked away in the corner of the box as far from the view of the cameras as possible. So far, she remained a secret kept by the people we trusted.

His chest was bare against my back and his voice was still thick with sleep as he cooed into my ear.

“What are you doing up so early?”

I felt a slight twitch in my belly. The doctor had told us that she could hear our voices and I was convinced that she loved the sound of Sidney’s voice. I couldn’t blame the girl; I loved listening to him talk. But every time he spoke when it was quiet and things were calm, she moved just slightly as if responding to the sound; reacting to him being so close.

I wondered if she would be a daddy’s girl.

I hoped she would. I didn’t want it to take her years of struggle to build a relationship with her father. I didn’t want her to hit her teens and completely shut him out the way I had with my father. God forbid something would happen to me; I wanted to know that she would have no qualms about going to her father with everything. And I knew that Sidney wouldn’t want it any other way.

But I was getting ahead of myself.

And a bit morbid at the same time.

She didn’t even have a name.

“Thinking,” I replied.

I appreciated the ability as my brain was beginning to turn to mush. I’d heard rumors of pregnancy brain but I hadn’t expected to find myself so flighty all the time. I couldn’t keep a thought in my head because my concentration was shot most of the time. It was like my brain was the consistency of undercooked scrambled eggs.

He kissed the juncture between my neck and shoulder before he settled his chin in that spot.

“What are you thinking about?”

“The mural I’m going to paint.”

“You never told me what you decided on.”

“Because we never agreed on it.”

“Tell me what it is. You’re going to paint what you’re going to paint. It’s not like I know anything about art. Or girls.”

I stepped away and turned to face him. “You’re just going to let me choose?”

“Yes. As long as we pick the furniture together.”

I smiled. “Deal.”

“Good. Now, tell me.”

I stepped into the room trying not to let my eyes linger on his body and the way his pajama bottoms slung lower than seemed necessary. He wasn’t a father who gained any sympathy weight and that could be attributed to the fact that he was a professional athlete and with as much as he worked out, the slices of cheesecake or trips to get frozen yogurt didn’t even touch his frame.

I’d never felt uncomfortable naked with Sidney. I’d never felt the need to compare the softness of my curves with the hard ridges of his musculature, but my curves had changed considerably and while he looked like an Adonis in a pair of sweats, I looked like I was trying to shoplift a watermelon under a t-shirt that was far too small. His eyes lingered on my belly as he waited for me to explain my vision.

“Stop staring,” I murmured.

He shrugged. “Hard not to.”

I narrowed my eyes, glaring in his direction.

“What?” he asked innocently. “There’s a baby in there. It’s fucking fascinating.”

“Language,” I warned.

He chuckled.

“She can hear us, Sidney.”

“But it will be a while before she can repeat the terrible words her father uses.”

I tried not to smile but failed as I shuffled to the corner and pointed out the ideas that had been festering in my head for weeks.

I wanted to paint a tree that grew up one corner, the branches spreading across two walls. One set of delicate branches would curve out over the wall where we had decided we would place her crib and the other portion would frame a bookcase that I couldn’t wait to fill with toys and books chosen especially for her whether by us or our friends and family.

He smiled while I spoke, dragging my hands along the walls to show him the ebbs and flows of the piece that I had floating through my head. I would add blossoms to the branches and maybe a few butterflies on the walls, but nothing too over the top. I wanted the tree and the spring blossoms, symbolic of new life, to be the images that grabbed people’s attention.

I watched as he crossed his arms, still grinning as I ended my presentation.

“So?” I asked.

“I think you thought this through.”

“I did.”

“Too bad you couldn’t make that hockey stick art piece work.”

“Find me some little girls’ mini-sticks and I might give it a shot. She is the daughter of a Stanley Cup champion, he should have his stamp in this room too.”

“If all goes according to plan, she’ll have her picture taken in the cup this year.”

“And every year after?”

“Wouldn’t that be the dream?”

He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me. My stomach pressed against his.

“You’re really okay with it?”

“Now that you’ve sold it that way, how could I say no? It will be absolutely perfect for little Mae.”

I pulled away, my nose wrinkled in disgust.

“What?”

“Mae?”

“Yeah. I like it.”

“I hate that name. I hate that name a lot.”

“It’s a nice, simple name.”

“And it sounds like it belongs to an eighty year old woman with a hunchback.”

“It does not. It’s a good name.”

“You can think that if you want, but I will not name our daughter Mae. No. Not happening.”

“What would you prefer?”

“What would I prefer to the name Mae? Anything. I would prefer anything.”

“Give me an example.”

“I don’t know,” I replied. “Right off the top of my head…Clementine.”

“Clementine? Like the fruit? You want to name our daughter after a small citrus fruit?”

“Why not, I think it’s cute. It’s different too.”

“What would we call her for short? Like I’m Sid and you’re Wyn, would she be Clem? Do you really want to call our daughter Clem?”

I sighed. “Maybe now isn’t the best time.”

“I kinda think you’re right.”

“You have to get going. Are you coming home after morning skate?”

He shook his head. “I think I really need to focus on the game. I know we’ve already clinched the spot and the seed but I think it would be better for our game to win tonight and keep the ball rolling.”

I placed my hands on his shoulders. “Then by all means, go to work and shake all of this silly baby name stuff out of your head.”

“It’s not really silly. She needs a name.”

“And clearly we can scratch both Mae and Clementine off the list.”

He chuckled and leaned down to kiss me quickly. Then he was off to get ready and out the door within minutes. He hollered a quick goodbye over his shoulder as I strapped a mask over my face and starting cracking open cans of paint.

It had been hours when I heard my phone ringing in the bedroom. I couldn’t reach it soon enough and found myself returning Sidney’s call quickly.

“You’re coming tonight, right?” he asked.

“I had every intention of being there, why?”

“Well, the guys want to go out after and I was thinking…”

“Sidney, if you want to go out, go out. We’ll have a few days before the playoffs start.”

“I just don’t want you to be alone while I’m out having fun.”

“I’ll call Sebastian or something. It isn’t a big deal. Enjoy a night out with your boys before the real fun begins. I’ll see you when you get home.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Sidney. Good luck.”

I was interrupted again later when Trina called to check and see how Sidney was doing. It had been a long season and she hated the fact that she couldn’t talk to him on game days. They’d be in town for at least a few of his playoff games and we hoped that would last well into June. I didn’t mention the bruises on his shin and chest from shots he’d blocked the previous week. I also didn’t mention that his ankle wasn’t one-hundred percent and he was having it worked on whenever he was at the rink.

They all had their bumps and bruises. Sidney wasn’t immune to that, but he’d played a full season and we were all grateful for that little blessing.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” she asked.

“Swollen,” I replied as I tapped a lid back onto one of the paint cans.

I’d gotten plenty done but I’d been on my feet too long. Besides, I needed to start thinking about getting ready for the game even if I did intend to hide myself away in a pair of jeans that no longer buttoned properly and a sweater that I’d recently had to procure in a larger size just to contain my growing frame.

“Sidney sent us the last picture he took. You look beautiful.”

I smiled. Sidney had started documenting my pregnancy on a weekly basis and if he wasn’t in town on the day that he would normally settle me in front of a wall and take a profile picture of me and my growing belly, Sebastian would show up. It was as Sidney was paying him to help torture me.

“Thanks, Trina.”

I didn’t add that I felt like an elephant on the day that he took the picture. I woke up retaining water and wanted to throw his phone in the garbage disposal, but he moved faster than I could. I certainly couldn’t fight him and that was something that would just get harder to do. So I let him have his little habits and quirks and tried to ignore them the rest of the time.

“You know we’ll be in town for the first two playoff games?”

“Yep, we’ve got your room ready.”

I was looking forward to seeing them, though I knew that Trina wanted to take me shopping for things for the baby and I didn’t think it was necessary. Still, she would drag me to hell and back looking for the perfect outfits for her granddaughter to wear or a teddy bear to add to the collection that seemed to be growing faster than the baby herself.

But no matter, it would be good to spend a few days with them while we could. Especially if it was going to be a long season like we all hoped it would.

I spent the game that night in the family suite with a few wives and children. It was a more subdued way to watch a game, but I wasn’t interested in too much excitement. My feet and back were aching from too much time spent painting the walls of the nursery and I was glad to sit in a quieter space with my feet up.

At some point in the previous few weeks Geno and Oksana had mended fences. Again. The look on Vero’s face when Oksana walked into the suite that evening could have killed a person with enough sense to know they were unwelcome. But she didn’t seem to have much sense at all.

Vero looked over at me as Estelle sat quietly in her lap.

“I can’t believe he is back with her,” she muttered. “He knows she’s no good for him.”

“We can’t fix his problems,” I reminded her.

“Oh but how much I would like to.”

I tried not to laugh as I adjusted my weight, shifting to one side on the sofa that Vero and I were sharing. Oksana eyed us for a moment but butted into a conversation between a couple of other wives instead of moving towards us. No one seemed to want to engage with her, but that wasn’t much of a deterrent for her.

The boys were ahead by three points with only a few minutes left and it didn’t seem that there was much risk to that lead. I opted to leave a little early and pick Sebastian up from his apartment as we’d decided was a great plan when I’d called him earlier in the day. But that was before my ankles had swollen and Oksana had given me a headache just by being present.

“We don’t have to go to dinner, Wynnie.”

“You’re sure?” I asked.

“I’d love some hangout time with you, but no, we don’t have to.”

“Thanks, Bastian.”

Instead of dinner out we settled on the couch in his apartment. Sid texted a few times over the course of the evening, but I was content to spend a few hours catching up with a friend. The last time we’d spent a significant amount of time together, it had been about me. Even after the night that I’d stayed with him back in the fall, we hadn’t had much time together.

He’d been travelling more often for work and I suspected a few of his trips had been of a more personal nature. But we never seemed to find the time to talk about it. We didn’t really seem to find a lot of time, period.

It was nice to have a chance to ask him how he was and even nicer to just let him do the talking. I didn’t have to talk about baby related plans or the hockey season. I didn’t have to talk about any of it. I could just let him have his say about whatever he wanted to discuss and there was no pressure on me whatsoever.

“Well, I was actually hoping there would be time for us to kind of go on a double date.”

He seemed nervous, a state I had seen him in only a handful of times over the years.

“A double date?”

“I mean, I know Sid is busy and he needs to focus, but I want you guys to spend a little time with him.”

“Him? Are you talking about the DJ?”

“Logan. Yeah. We’re still seeing each other.”

“And he’s going to be here?”

“Later this week. Just for a couple of days. But I’d like for you to get to know him at least.”

“How serious is this?”

He looked down and I could see that he was picking at his cuticles. It had been a long time since I’d seen Sebastian in a relationship. There had been so many douchebags that weren’t right for him over the years and even if he hit it off with them, it never seemed to last. But leave it to Sebastian to meet the DJ at my wedding and make a connection.

“He has a job opportunity in New York and I’ve been interviewing with firms out there.”

“You’re thinking about moving with him?”

“I know it’s crazy.”

“That’s not what I was going to say. I wasn’t even thinking it.”

I was thinking about how happy that made me. Sure we would be in different cities again, but New York was closer than Boston and our friendship hadn’t suffered during that separation. I just wanted him to be happy in the same way that I was. I wanted him to be with someone that made him want to do things for himself without being self-destructive. I wanted him to be with someone that made him brave enough to pick up and leave and start all over again.

If Logan was that person, there was no way that I couldn’t approve.

“I mean, it isn’t a for sure thing. But we’ve talked about it.”

I understood and he knew I did. Sidney and I had talked about my move to Pittsburgh long before it happened, and while I’d resisted, the idea was always there in the back of my mind. We hadn’t even been together a year when I moved. I certainly couldn’t fault Sebastian for thinking about doing the same thing.

“I’ll talk to Sidney and we’ll try to make something work while Logan is here. It might have to be lunch or something but we can make it happen.”

He wrapped me in a hug. “I hope you love him,” he murmured into my ear.

“I’m sure I will. But the question is, do you love him?”

“I really do. I never thought I’d be with a guy like him, but I think I was looking in all the wrong places up until I met him.”

“Funny how that works,” I replied as I gathered my keys and jacket and readied myself for the drive back to Sewickley.

“We still have to find time to go get baby furniture,” he reminded me as I walked towards the door.

“You’re going to have to settle for helping with the décor. Sid and I are going to pick the actual furniture.”

“I thought you guys were on totally different planets with the baby’s room.”

“We have been. We’ve been that way with a lot of things. But we’re going to learn to compromise. I painted most of the mural today and we’ve decided on a couple of names that are absolutely not going to happen. So we’re working towards making decisions together.”

He chuckled as I walked out the door. My phone buzzed in my hand and as I assumed would happen, Sid was leaving the party early. He was glad to celebrate a win with the team before they had to buckle down and get their heads straight for the playoffs. But he also didn’t feel the need to stay out and get wasted with the younger guys.

He beat me home, his car already parked when I pulled into the garage.

It was my turn to step up behind him as he gazed into the nursery. I couldn’t quite reach all the way around him with my growing belly keeping me a step or two back from him. But it was nice to catch him in a quiet moment as he looked around the mostly empty room. My hands settled on his sides, my cheek pressed to his back.

“What do you think?” I asked. “I still have a few more flowers to do. But it’s mostly done.”

“You amaze me,” he murmured. “I don’t even know how you do things like this.”

“It’s not that hard.”

“For you.”

“You’re right.”

He had a solid point. If he were to attempt painting a mural it would be like me attempting a no-look, backhand pass to one of his linemates. We both had our own set of skills and what seemed easy to each of us individually would pose a significant challenge to the other.

“Do you like it?” I finally asked.

He turned towards me, my hands still on his waist.

“You’re kidding right?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“I love it.” He leaned down and kissed me gently. His hands fell to the sides of my growing abdomen. “We’ve been saying for months that we just want this space to be perfect for her, and it is. It’s absolutely perfect.”

I had to admit, it was pretty. Feminine without being over the top. It wasn’t like someone had stepped into the room and vomited strawberry milk over all of the walls. Not everything needed to be pink and the touches in the blossoms on the trees, the trunk and branches painted in a way that reminded me of the birch tree that grew in my father’s backyard, were just enough to start with. I was sure the people in our lives would add plenty more in the form of blankets and toys.

“I think it’s perfect too.”

“Now, if only we could find the perfect name,” he said as he pressed his forehead against mine.

I backed away. “Oh no. We are not starting this conversation again. Not tonight.”

“I don’t play for a few days. There’s time.”

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

He pursed his lips. “Fine. Tomorrow it is.”

He followed me to the bedroom as I peeled off the sweater I’d worn to the game. He made no secret of loving seeing me wear his numbers. I would have rather been wearing a dress, but it was getting harder and harder to hide things without the help of the baggy top. I slipped into a pair of sweats and tugged a shirt down over my stomach. Once upon a time it had been loose on me, but it fit like a glove, pulled awkwardly against my form. But I wasn’t willing to start buying too many items of maternity clothing until I had absolutely no other choice.

“How was Sebastian?” he asked as he dropped down onto the bed and kicked off his shoes.

“Oddly reflective. He and the DJ from the wedding are still together. It sounds like it’s getting pretty serious.”

“How serious?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at me.

“Serious enough that he wants us to meet him. He’s also thinking about moving to New York with the guy.”

“Wasn’t the DJ based out of Cape Breton?”

“Apparently he’s got a job opportunity in New York.”

“Sebastian’s sure he wants him to meet us…I mean get to know us. See, I know we worked with the guy and all but I can’t remember him for the life of me.”

“It was a busy week and he was pretty well in the background,” I assured him. He always felt badly when he didn’t remember people. “But he seems sure. I told him we’d figure something out. Sounds like Logan is going to be in town this week so it might be something to fit in during the few days off that you get.”

“I think it could be arranged.”

He stood from the bed and wandered into the closet to unload his shoes and suit. I met him when he returned and pressed up onto my toes to reach his lips with my own.

“Good game tonight, by the way.”

“Vero told Marc you left early,” he said with a smirk.

“People were already leaving and you know how I feel about getting caught up in the rush out the doors.”

“I can’t blame you. Not at all.”

We slept in the next morning, a rare gift we tried not to take for granted. But Sid somehow still managed to beat me out of bed. He was already in the gym by the time I rolled out of bed and headed off to find some breakfast.

I glanced at the refrigerator and blinked before realizing what was there. Next to the sonogram image was a large pink post it note with Sidney’s angular scrawl across it in sharpie.

It read: “What about Abigail?”

I pulled the paper off of the fridge and headed for the basement. He was on the bike, clearly cooling down from the rest of his workout.

“What?” he asked as I held it towards him.

“My middle name?”

“I like it. It’s classic and pretty. No one thinks anything badly of a girl named Abby.”

“Other than the fact that I grew up with no fewer than five of them. It’s too common, Sidney.”

“What’s wrong with a common name?”

“Everyone else has it.”

“That doesn’t mean every Abigail doesn’t have her own identity.”

“No, but it makes for the annoying use of middle or last initials to differentiate. I don’t want her to have to be ‘Abby C.’ for the rest of her life. Besides, we said we’d talk about this. Not that’s you’d post notes on the refrigerator.”

“You were sleeping when I thought of it.”

I put my hands on my hips and crumpled the paper quickly. “It’s a no.”

“Not even a maybe?”

“No.”

“I’m gonna win this,” he hollered as I walked out of the expansive room.

“Not a chance in hell, Canada!” I shot back.

“Language!” I heard him retort from behind me.

We spent that evening at a restaurant a solid twenty minutes outside of the city. Somehow there tended to be less attention there and it would give us more of a chance to get to know the boyfriend that we had technically supplied for my best friend.

Logan was clearly nervous, rubbing his hands on the thighs of his jeans every few minutes. Sebastian too seemed unsure but it was Sidney that somehow made everyone feel at ease. He struck up a conversation about their shared home province and the conversation finally began to flow as the waitress poured each of the men at the table a drink. I sipped at my water and waited for the appetizers to arrive as I let them talk amongst themselves.

“I feel kinda bad that I don’t really remember you, Logan,” Sid said as he took a sip of wine.

“It was your wedding reception. A lot of other things were going on. I don’t think most grooms could pick me out of a lineup and I’m pretty hard to miss.”

Sidney smiled. “Well, I pulled it off. Missing you that is.”

“I’m bringing Logan to a game this week before he heads back.”

“I haven’t been to a hockey game since I stopped playing back in middle school. I’m a pretty sad excuse for a Canadian, according to my older brother anyway.”

“Why’d you quit?” Sid asked.

“I wasn’t ever much good. I was better with creative things. Sports just weren’t for me as much as my dad wanted them to be.”

“Do you guys need help getting tickets? I know they sold fast. I can—“

“It’s fine, Sid,” Sebastian said. “I nabbed a couple before they sold out.”

“Not nosebleeds, I hope.”

“No. We’ll see the game fine. But thanks.”

“Not a problem, man.”

I squeezed Sidney’s hand beneath the table as the conversation continued with an ease I could have only hoped for. It was nice that we didn’t have to talk about ourselves for once. We both enjoyed listening to the stories that other people had to tell. We weren’t necessarily the type that always needed to be heard. I liked sitting there sharing appetizers and listening to Sebastian talk about the man sitting to his right with a certain amount of reverence. I could only assume that my voice took on the same tone when I was asked to talk about Sidney and the way the first few months of our relationship had played out.

It was clear to me, more than it had been during our discussion the day before; Sebastian was very much in love. It wasn’t some crush like the endless terrible dates and group dinners he’d been on over the years. It wasn’t lust, like it had been with his college boyfriends. It was actually love and respect that he held for the man that he’d met at our wedding reception.

I didn’t want to take credit for it, but I had hired the guy.

It didn’t keep Sidney from claiming his hand in it when we returned home and piled onto the sofa. He turned on the TV but we didn’t pay attention to it.

“You know, our setup record is stellar. Vero thinks she’s the master of setting up her friends, but I think we’ve got the market cornered.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Two couples that hooked up over the course of our wedding are still together.”

“I don’t think we can count Jack and Nicole.”

“Why not? I talked to him a few days ago and she’s all he talks about. Why, has Nicole said something?”

“No, it just took him five months to call her after they slept together.”

“But he developed those feelings for her when they slept together. During our wedding week. And with Logan and Sebastian, there is no other way they would have met.”

“So says the man who was so convinced we were completely meant to be.”

“That’s us.”

“And fate applies only to the two of us, not our friends.”

“Fine. Maybe they would have crossed paths, but I still think it’s cool for us to take credit.”

I shook my head and pushed myself off of the couch.

“Where are you going?”

“Bed.”

“Am I invited?”

“It is your bed too. And you have practice and video sessions tomorrow. You should come get some rest.”

“What if I don’t want rest?”

“Well, I’m tired and my back hurts so that’s all you’re getting.”

He sighed and rose from the sofa, turning off lights as he followed me to the stairs. I was a few steps ahead of him as he stepped onto the steps behind me.

“What about Lily?”

“No. No flower names. No flowers or colors or seasons of the year. No months or precious gems. Just no.”

I didn’t even look behind me to see the look on his face.

“So, Summer?”

“Nope.”

“Ruby?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re pedestrian.”

“Pedestrian?”

“Ordinary. Plain. Uninspired. It’s like you looked to your left and named the first thing you saw and decided that was a great thing to call your child for the rest of her life.”

“Fine. So I’ve had two solid ideas today. What about you?” he asked as I turned down the sheets.

“I like Thora.”

“You have got to be shitting me.”

“Not at all. It’s a good strong name.”

“So strong it sounds like she’d grow up to be a genderless weightlifter with steroid acne.”

“I’d rather have that than Ruby the friendly neighborhood stripper.”

“Ruby isn’t a stripper’s name.”

“Maybe not, but Scarlett is. And Crystal. And Jasmine.”

He groaned and crawled into bed. “You’re just determined to find a reason not to like names that I like.”

“No, that’s not true. I’m determined not to give our child the same name as tons of other children. I want her to have a name that stands out a little.”

“Because having the last name Crosby isn’t going to make her stand out enough?”

“Is that why you want her to blend into the woodwork? Because you’re her father?”

“It’s not going to be easy. I’ve always had these expectations on me and all of the attention and I want her to be a normal kid.”

“The Lemieux kids grew up just fine in this city. Pittsburgh isn’t going to chew our daughter up and spit her out.”

“That doesn’t mean her name needs to sound like it belongs to a cartoon character.”

“Fine. But she doesn’t need to have the name of a middle aged woman at birth either. We have to find a compromise.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do.”

We attempted compromise all week but the aggression slowly crept back in. There were more notes posted on different surfaces. Lucy and Evelyn and Renee. He wasn’t budging on his love of the dated and old fashioned names. But I wasn’t budging either.

The morning of their second playoff game he woke up to a name that I would have liked to use scrawled across the bathroom mirror in red lipstick.

He stomped into the bedroom with a towel around his waist and his arms crossed while I lounged in bed, still not ready to get up for the day. I’d written the note during one of my bathroom breaks in the middle of the night and it had been waiting for him since long before he’d stepped bleary eyed into the shower.

“Holland? Are you serious?”

“I think it’s pretty.”

“You gave me all that shit about liking flowers and jewels and colors and you go with a place?”

“It’s different.”

“How is it different?”

“Because they aren’t as overused.”

“Oh come on. Every other day some celebrity is naming their kid India or Brooklyn.”

“What about Ireland?”

“Because we’re both part Irish but have never ventured to the old country? I don’t think so.”

“Boston?”

“Not a chance in hell,” he muttered as he wandered back into the bathroom, the towel creeping down as he walked away.

“Alabama?”

“Are you fucking insane, Bronwyn?” He hollered back.

“I married you,” I countered.

“True and as your husband I am vetoing all location based names.”

“All of them?”

“Every single one.”