All That Matters

Sidney dealt with the media circus in the best way he knew how. He called Pat on the way to the rink and asked his agent to release a statement that confirmed his marriage and requested that the press respect his privacy.

He was avoiding it, putting off the inevitable more than anything else. It wasn’t actually a productive way of dealing with things; asking the press not to ask him any questions about his personal life. But it made him feel better and in the moment, as his season began, that was all that really mattered. It helped him stay focused.

At least that was what he claimed when pressed about it.

I didn’t argue with him over it, choosing not to allow it to start another fight. I chose not to remind him that there would come a time that he couldn’t avoid it any longer. He wouldn’t be able to put it off forever.

At least he wasn’t hiding me away any longer, finally treating me like his wife rather than something to be ashamed of. I didn’t need to avoid being public with him or without. It felt like we were settling into a quiet normality that we’d both been hoping would become a part of our lives.

He apologized profusely over the fight we’d had and decided it was best to move forward when the preseason began.

“Come to Columbus.”

He’d come into my studio with a duffel bag in his hands. His suit was a little long in the arms, but the way the fabric of his pants grazed the thick musculature of his thighs was enough to make up for the sleeves.

He was ready for the first real game since June. Ready for the fresh start he’d been craving since summer had begun.

“We had a deal, Sidney.”

“I don’t like the deal.”

“I’m your wife, not your shadow. It isn’t my job or my place to follow you around everywhere you go.”

We’d agreed that I wouldn’t follow him to away games until the playoffs. If I chose to make a trip west while they were playing there or even to take my father to a game in Minnesota, that would be my choice. But I wasn’t going to hop on a plane every time they left town. That would likely change during the playoffs when the games meant more. But otherwise, I would watch from home like most wives chose to.

“Oksana will be there. A few wives will be too. I can get you a flight.”

That sounded like an absolute joy. Oksana still gave me a look that made me wonder if I smelled terrible whenever we were forced to interact. She clearly wasn’t my biggest fan and a fun-filled night with her in Ohio didn’t sound like something I would enjoy.

“I’m not arguing about this.”

“Good. Go get packed.”

“Very funny.”

He dropped his duffel on the floor and sauntered towards me. He trapped one of my thighs between his, pulling me close as if to dance with me in the middle of the room. I pulled my left hand away, careful not to get paint on him as he brought my body closely against his.

He smelled warm. He always seemed to give off a spicy musk that drew me in like a moth to flame. I was powerless against it.

My rigid muscles, tense from concentration, relaxed quickly as his lips moved against mine. He tasted like mouthwash and I didn’t want to pull away, resisting the urge to tangle my fingers into the short locks of his curly hair.

He released me from the kiss, his arms still wrapped tightly around my frame. He pressed his forehead against mine and took a deep breath. His eyes fluttered, closing as he exhaled.

“I’m gonna miss you like crazy.”

“You’ll be home on Sunday night.”

“It’ll be late. You’ll be sleeping.”

“I don’t have a day job; you can always wake me up if you feel the need. If I don’t want to see you then I’ll just slap you or something.”

He glanced up at the clock. They would be holding a quick morning skate to limber up and work on a few plays for the game, followed promptly by a flight to Columbus. He didn’t need to be late for the first time in his career simply because we’d gotten distracted.

“You’ve gotta go.”

“Yeah.”

“Tell Jack ‘hi.’”

“I will.”

“I love you, Sidney. Now get your ass to work.”

He sighed and disengaged his body from mine. I stepped back and picked up my paintbrush once again.

“Are you ever going to let me see what you’re working on in here?”

“Eventually,” I replied with a smirk.

“I love you.”

He picked up his bag, gave me another passing glance, and was out the door. I didn’t put my brush to the canvas again until I heard the sound of the garage door and was sure Sidney was on his way to work. I took a deep breath as the garage door lowered and did what I could to get refocused for the day.

The game the next night wasn’t particularly enthralling. Every man on the ice was trying to get his rhythm, trying to get their footing and find the pace that they were used to. It would take time to smooth things over, for lines to work together and for the team to communicate fully on the ice.

Taylor called during the first intermission while the game was tied up at one.

She was settling into her senior year at Shattuck, trying to focus on both her grades and her sport. She was the starting goaltender for the girls’ team, feeling a bit of pressure after her participation in team Canada’s camp over the summer. She was also concerned about her future. She wanted to play for Canada, but she wouldn’t have the opportunity to play in the way her brother did. She would have to move forward, play in college or one of the leagues in Canada part time. It was all weighing on her.

I didn’t press her for information, deciding to focus on letting her jabber at me as the game went on.

Troy was in Columbus and she was quietly disappointed that he wouldn’t be there for any of her games until later in her season when the stakes were higher. She was used to it in a way, aware that Sidney was always the focus for their father. It didn’t stop it from bothering her a little bit every time that he chose to attend one of Sidney’s games rather than hers.

I didn’t voice my opinion on the matter. I felt strongly about it, but didn’t feel like it was the right time to discuss it. I didn’t want to rock the boat and instead I kept her distracted by chatting about the game that was playing out on the screen.

The commentators made a passing comment during a short break in play about the status of Sid’s personal life.

“Why does he insist on being so terribly cryptic?” she asked as the camera landed on Sidney.

I groaned. “You have no idea how many arguments we’ve had over this.”

“He just lends to it. He makes the speculation worse because he acts like he has something to hide. They probably all think he knocked up some random girl in Halifax over the summer ad felt the need to marry her.”

“You think I haven’t told him that? Because I have. Neither of you play on Tuesday; maybe you should tell him that he makes it worse. Maybe he’ll listen to you.”

“Maybe I will.”

She would.

She loved to give him grief for his ridiculous choices. She could give him hell for anything and she would gladly use any ammunition that I could give her. She also loved to side with me whenever she got the chance; if only to drive her brother crazy.

We ended the conversation just before Pittsburgh pulled of their first win in what felt like a terribly long time.

Sidney didn’t wake me up when the plane landed to let me know he was home. Instead it was the motion created when he crawled into bed next to me that woke me.

“Hey,” I whispered, my voice heavy from several hours of sound sleep.

“Shhh…” he whispered in my ear. “Go back to sleep.”

I snuggled into the warmth of his chest. He smelled like the soap that he used after games. It was a smell that I’d missed in the months since their previous season had ended so abruptly.

The last time I’d smelled the aroma on his skin had been on the night that he proposed.

I’d waited a long few months to smell it again and the comfort that it offered quickly lulled me back to sleep.

He was getting ready for practice when I woke in the morning.

“Are you coming home after the skate?”

He nodded as he pulled his socks on. “I’ll be home for lunch and a nap.”

“I’ll have pasta and chicken waiting.”

He smiled. “You don’t have to.”

“I know.”

“I can just pick something up.”

“First home game of the season—“

“Preseason.”

“Still, I’ve decided. It’s my treat today. Just don’t get used to it.”

“Then I’m going to have to send a treat your way.”

“Like what?”

“You can nap with me.”

“It’s like I won the lottery.”

“No need for sarcasm.”

“There’s always a need for sarcasm.”

I ventured out after he left, determined to no longer keep my left hand out of sight when I was out in public. I refused to shove my hand into my pocket for fear someone would see the ring or recognize me from a picture taken without my knowledge. I wasn’t going to hide anything.

I sniffed out a local farmer’s market and stopped at the café to pick up an herbal tea.

It was the one place we’d frequented since we had just dived into the dating stage of our relationship. The waitresses and owner had known about me from the beginning. But between the respect they had for Sidney and the desire to keep him as a customer, they never would have said a word.

Instead, it had functioned as a place where Sidney could take me in public without concern. He could pull out my chair or hold my hand without worrying about the click of a shutter or the flash of a camera-phone flickering from some dark corner of the room.

It was a private place in a public; a little oasis for the two of us.

The waitress gave me a knowing look.

I hadn’t stopped in since before Sidney had made his evasive public announcement, and it was safe to say that they’d heard the press release. Perhaps they’d even seen in him in last post-practice scrum reminding the press, both local and otherwise, that he didn’t comment on his private life.

She handed me the cup as I wondered if the tips that we left consistently weren’t some type of hush-money.

By the time I got home, I decided to get started on Sidney’s lunch.

I’d gotten Nathalie’s recipe for Sid’s favorite pasta sauce and started from scratch with the ingredients that I’d managed to scrounge up at the farmer’s market. It was a painstaking process from beginning to end and it led me to decide all future batches would be cooking in bulk and frozen for future use. It wasn’t something I could do several days a week, but having the recipe would pay off in the end.

I wanted Sid’s pregame rituals to change as little as possible as we settled into our first season as a married couple.

He had plenty to adjust to. There was no need to add to the list of things that were changing and shifting in his life. It seemed like undo stress.

I set to cooking the chicken in hopes it would be done in time for Sidney’s arrival. Maybe it would have been a better idea for Sidney to pick something up, but I was jumping into life as a hockey wife with both feet and it was too late to back out.

The front door opened and I glanced at the clock.

“Knock, knock.”

The sound of Troy’s voice nearly made me jump out of my skin. I hadn’t been expecting to see him until the game. I’d actually been hoping, after seeing him so much over the course of the summer, that I would be able to avoid seeing him entirely. I’d planned on sitting with the wives and girlfriends, hoping to blend in as one of them. Next to Troy, now that people knew Sidney was married, I would stick out like a sore thumb.

“I thought I locked the door,” I murmured quietly as he stepped into the kitchen.

He shook his keys at me. “I let myself in.”

I held my tongue as he settled at the island. I was still upset for Taylor and felt a little violated that he’d simply let himself into the house. But I didn’t want to start anything by saying something that I would grow to regret.

Sidney didn’t seem shocked by his father’s presence when he arrived home, but I could only assume that Troy’s surprise appearances were never a surprise to his son. His visits were probably expected more than anything else. Sidney probably lived by the assumption that his father would show up uninvited more often than not.

Troy stayed for lunch and lingered in the living room even after Sidney went up to our bedroom for his pregame nap. Any chance I had of slipping upstairs to curl up next to my husband was squelched when Troy made it clear he didn’t intend to leave.

Troy had an opinion about everything. That was something I’d been aware of even before I met him. But his opinions being voiced so readily wasn’t something that I invited at all times. Sometimes I just felt like I needed a break.

Love my father-in-law as I did, I caught myself surveying the room looking for heavy objects to bludgeon him with. I wouldn’t dare, but it was getting harder to keep myself quiet as the minutes ticked down.

“I wish he had consulted me before he spoke with Pat.”

“He did what he thought was best,” I defended.

“And you?”

“It’s his career that’s affected, not mine.”

There was a vase that Troy’s sister had given us as a wedding gift. It sat on the table nearest me, and had a certain amount of heft to it. Troy was staring at me from across the room and the vase was tempting me.

“You’re sitting with me at the game tonight, aren’t you?”

Because family bonding was going so well?

“I planned on sitting with a few of the wives tonight. I didn’t know you’d be in town.”

Only half of my statement was a bald-faced lie.

“Fully immersing yourself?”

I bristled. “I see no harm in sitting with a group of women I consider my friends.”

It had been made clear that I had an example to set as the wife of the captain. I was expected to have some involvement with the other wives and girlfriends. I wasn’t close with all of them, but I owed my presence to those who treated me well and those who were new to the team.

It was my job and Troy knew damn well that was the case.

I glanced up at the clock above the fireplace. It was nearly time for Sidney to wake from his nap and I headed for the stairs before the urge to take the clock off the wall and swing it at him became too powerful to resist.

“I’ve got to go get Sidney out of bed.”

“He doesn’t have an alarm anymore?”

“He left his phone in the kitchen, it won’t do him any good.”

I finished ascending the stairs and quickly slid into bed next to Sidney. His suit was laid out on the bench at the foot of the bed, ready for the night’s game. He groaned and opened his arms to me.

“Already?”

I scoffed. “It’s been a very long couple of hours.”

“Did he at least knock?”

“Nope. Let himself in. With his keys.”

He sighed and I felt his lips in my hair as he softly kissed whatever part of me was within his reach. “I’ll talk to him.”

I nodded against his chest.

“Excited for your first home game as Mrs. Sidney Crosby?”

“Nervous.”

“Why?”

“Your dad wants me to sit with him, for one.”

“Do you want to?”

“I think I’d be more comfortable sitting with Vero and Carole-Lyne like I’d planned.”

“Do what you want, babe. You’ve never let my father bully you before. Now isn’t the time to start. If you’re more comfortable with the girls, then sit with them. I don’t give two shits where you sit as long as you’re there and you can enjoy yourself.”

“I’ll be there. Don’t worry about that.”

I craned my neck and kissed his jaw. “I’ll let you get ready.”

“You could always get ready with me.”

“I’ve got more to do than you do. Besides, it might get your father out of the house faster if we don’t hang out up here for too long. He won’t linger if I’m getting ready and not there to entertain him.”

“I’ll take care of Dad,” he mused. “You go hop in the shower and I’ll see you after the game.”

He kissed me again and gathered up his suit as I stepped into the bathroom.

Troy was long gone by the time I slipping into my black dress and gold flats.

I assumed he was upset with me, but I didn’t care as my phone vibrated on the bathroom counter.

-I’ll deal with Dad later. Your ticket is at will call, Vero will meet you in the garage. Have fun.

As promised, Vero was waiting for me in the garage with Catherine lingering nearby as well. They both gave me sympathetic looks. It was clear that Sid had made them aware of his father’s earlier antics.

“So, the legend of Troy Crosby continues?”

Vero chuckled. “He’s just mad that Sid doesn’t run everything by him anymore.”

“Jealousy isn’t pretty on a man his size,” Catherine added.

I was growing to like Catherine more and more as I got to know her.

We walked into the arena together but stopped abruptly as Anne Adams appeared just outside of our section.

“Prepare yourself.”

“They didn’t,” Vero muttered.

“Not many,” Anne replied. “But there are a few of them out there.”

“A few what?” I asked.

“Signs,” Anne answered. “The fans are usually better than this, but they have their moments. Especially when it comes to Sid.”

I sighed. “I hope Sidney doesn’t see them.”

He didn’t need to be distracted, though I knew that there were times that anger could fuel him to play a harder game. He always emptied his tank, but sometimes the added fuel gave him a boost. Still, I didn’t want him worried about how I was feeling because a few jealous girls decided to make signs that were designed to piss me off.

“I had Craig warn him before they warmed up.”

“Thanks.”

Craig and Anne’s son Rhys popped out with Courtney Scuderi and her daughter behind him.

“Mom, the game is about to start!” he enthused.

It seemed like he’d missed hockey as much as my husband had. His mother smiled and nodded at him, letting him know that she’d be in within a few short minutes. He skittered back to his seat as Courtney headed for the nearest bathroom.

“They’ll get over it,” she said quietly. “It will just take some time for them to get used to it.”

She patted me on the arm as Vero led me towards our seats.

The women that I was with, some friends and some still relative strangers spent the night sheltering me. Vero kept squeezing my hand as a way of reassuring me. Carole-Lyne sat to my left and let out a quiet hiss any time one of the signs was visible on the big screen. There were light squeezes to the shoulders and pats on the thigh as they passed me to get to the restroom from time to time.

The WAG’s no longer intimidated me. Not most of them anyway.

I spent most of the game with a pair of preschoolers taking turns sitting on my lap. Every fifteen minutes or so, Lola Dupuis and Francesca Adams would switch places. Lola would play with my fingernails, painted gold for the evening. Francesca was more interested in spinning the pair of rings on my left hand and watching as the stones caught the light.

It kept me distracted enough not to see many of the signs that called me a gold-digger or claimed the sign-holder loved him more or would gladly have an affair with him.

I was thankful for the level of class the rest of the fans seemed to exude.

I followed Vero back towards the dressing room a while after the game had come to an end. It was a path I knew well, and the arena had emptied out quickly after their one-point loss to Detroit. Still, we’d lingered for a while, waiting for the right time to retrieve our husbands.

I could hear their voices from down the hall and I stopped in my tracks.

“I told you you shouldn’t have released a damn statement.”

“There were pictures of my ring and pictures of us together. They would have made the connection eventually. I was tired of hiding; hiding her.”

“I knew it was her idea.”

“You think she wanted this? Venom from people who don’t know anything about her? Hate from people who couldn’t pick her out of a police lineup? Being married to me shouldn’t be some sort of punishment, but I feel like it is for her. And don’t you dare mention money or the pre-nup. You were perfectly supportive last month. You don’t get to go back on that.”

“I feel like she’s gotten a little too comfortable.”

“Fuck off,” he groaned.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Dad. She worries constantly about how people will perceive her. She wouldn’t let me buy her a fucking car because she was concerned that people would think she was using me for my money. If anyone is too comfortable, it’s you. You let yourself into my house and invite yourself to lunch. You forget who pays for your hotel rooms and plane tickets.

“Wyn works, she makes a contribution. She’s also my wife. She is entitled to the things that belong to me. Those things are hers now, the money is hers now. You are a kept man, don’t you ever forget that.”

He’d seen me from the corner of his eye, aware that I was standing there frozen like a statue, as if I looked into the eyes of Medusa. He grabbed my hand as he stormed away, pulling me behind him. He didn’t say a word about it when we arrived home in separate cars. He didn’t mention his father all night, preferring the night to belong to us.

I was fine with that.

He opted out of Tuesday’s practice and refused to let me go when I awoke.

“I’m sorry people are assholes.”

“Which people?”

“Fans. My dad. People who cut you off on the freeway.”

“The fans will get over it, and so will your father.”

“I’m not so sure he will.”

“He will if he wants to keep living the cushy life he enjoys so much.”

“He was out of line.”

“Who are you trying to convince, yourself or me?”

“Both,” he admitted.

There was distinctive radio silence from his father in the days that followed. He didn’t make the trip to Chicago the way that he’d planned to. He didn’t call on the day of the game. He stayed silent, fuming in Cole Harbour instead.

“He’s pissed,” Taylor said as we began our ritual away-game phone call. “Mom says he’s been swearing about ‘that ungrateful little prick’ for the last two days.”

“Frankly, he’s lucky it was your brother who went off on him. I had plenty more to say than your brother did.”

We both groaned as Sid took a solid check to the boards on a power-play and Geno retaliated with haste. It never failed, and they were reduced to being at even strength.

“I love my dad, but he can be a little…”

“Overzealous?” I suggested.

She chuckled. “That’s a good word for it. He loves you though, I know he does. He just gets so touchy when it comes to Sidney.”

“Is it because I sat with the other wives instead of him?”

“Probably doesn’t help. Sid dated a girl for a while and she was totally into him for the money and status. The WAGs didn’t like her, but she glommed onto them. Dad hated her. Maybe he had a flashback. But he better be glad Nanny Crosby isn’t around. Grown man or not, she would’ve grounded him on the spot.”

“I think that’s what your brother threatened.”

“No, Sid threatened to cut him off.”

“You know if he did, which he won’t, that wouldn’t have an impact on you, right? He’d still make sure your school and everything is taken care of.”

“I know. He’s told me that before.”

“He’s threatened to cut your folks off before?”

“A couple of times. He knows it works. It wakes Dad up from his hissy fits.”

Sid ended up in the box and Taylor laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s like my big brother is in time out. It’s just so strange.”

I laughed as well. “I wonder if it would work here at home.”

“You could always try it.”

“Might be worth a laugh.”

Sid was riding high from a goal and two assists when he crawled into bed in the middle of the night. He was always in a celebratory mood when he played a particularly good game, I’d learned that much early on. I was more than happy to allow it, regardless of having been woken from an enjoyable dream.

No dream could compete with the smell of his skin or the taste of peppermint gum on his lips.

He snuck out of bed in the morning for practice and I didn’t even wake up. He’d already had several hours of sleep on the flight home, and our time had been nothing more than an intermission. He was fully rested long before I was, and it was lunch before I saw him.

“So, the Blue Jackets are in town.”

“Are you hinting at something?”

“I invited Jack to dinner.”

“Good. I invited Sebastian.”

“You did?”

“No. But now I’m going to. He can even pick Jack up and have him back to the hotel by team curfew.”

Sid laughed but made no effort to argue with me. Sebastian was more than happy to join us for dinner, and stayed in the kitchen with me while Jack and Sidney tended to the grill.

“How’s married life?”

“Settling in. Challenges to overcome and all that.”

“Some of the signs the puck bunnies hold up are pretty creative.”

“Thanks.”

“They aren’t the only challenge, are they?”

“They aren’t really a challenge,” I replied. “Troy had a bit of a hissy fit the other day. Sid told him to back off and now he won’t even speak to Sidney.”

“He’s just being a hot head. He’ll get over it.”

“Who will?” Jack asked as he plucked a grape tomato off of the salad I’d been making and popped it in his mouth.

“Dad’s being an ass,” Sidney replied, setting the plate of steaks on the table.

“So what else is new?” Jack quipped.

Sid plopped down into the chair at the head of the table. “Does everyone dislike my father?”

“He doesn’t have much of a fan club,” Jack replied.

“People think he’s overbearing and excessively involved,” I added.

“Controlling,” Sebastian murmured.

“Well, he seems to think he has a say in my relationship,” Sid muttered as he leaned back in his chair.

“Speaking of relationships,” Jack said with a grin, loading his plate with salad and steak.

“Blow up dolls don’t count as girlfriends, Jack.”

“Fuck you, Crosby. I was talking to Sebastian. How is coat-check boy?”

“Coat check boy?” Sidney and I asked in unison.

Bastian’s face and neck flushed crimson as he stared down at his plate.

“He hooked up with some guy at the reception.”

“In the coat check?” I asked.

Jack nodded.

“We didn’t hook up.”

“Nic and I caught you making out with him.”

“Yeah… but he’s not just some guy. He was, but he isn’t now.”

“Wait, you made out with a guy at my wedding?”

“Reception.”

“And he’s not some guy?”

“His name is Logan.”

“And you,” Sid interjected, pointing at his best friend. “Why were you in the coat check with Nicole?”

“Um…looking for our coats.”

“Since when do you call her ‘Nic?’” I asked in response.

“Ooh, is it my turn to throw someone under a speeding bus?” Sebastian asked, looking gleeful for a moment.

“Don’t even,” Jack warned.

“Would someone, anyone, care to tell me what the hell happened at my wedding?” I shouted over their banter.

They responded at the same time.

“Sebastian made out with the DJ.”

“Jack slept with Nicole.”

“You slept with Nicole?” Sidney demanded.

“How is that worse than what he did?”

“You slept with my best friend?”

“I’m your best friend,” Sebastian piped up.

“At my reception?”

“No.”

“After the wedding,” Sebastian clarified.

“What?”

Jack blanched, blinking rapidly.

“Please tell me this is a joke.”

“That’s why you showed up at the house for pictures at the same time, isn’t it?” Sid asked.

“Christ. At least tell me you’ve called her since.”

“Not exactly.”

“Not exactly?”

“She doesn’t do strings!”

“You fell for that old trope?”

“What about Sebastian and the DJ?”

“Sebastian,” I asked. “Did you call the DJ after you hooked up in the coat check?”

“We made out—“

“Did you call him?”

“We’ve kind of been seeing each other.”

“Congrats, Jack,” Sid muttered. “You just won douchebag of the year.”

“Your dad called your new wife a distraction and a gold-digger!”

“You slept with my wife’s best friend and you didn’t call!”

“I’m her best friend,” Sebastian argued.

“Actually, I am and thank God she’s mine because you guys are a couple pieces of work.” Sidney was leaned forward, elbows on the table. He rubbed his temples as I tried to gather my wits about me.

“Are you going to kick us out before we finish eating?” Jack asked, picking at his salad.

“No, but you’ll be lucky if we ever invite you to anything again.”

“Fair enough,” Sebastian replied.

“Your crime wasn’t as bad as Jack’s, but did you have to choose my wedding?” I asked as I rolled a tomato across my plate.

“It was kind of an opportunity thing.”

“Clearly.”

“It was for me too,” Jack defended.

“You didn’t call!” I hollered.

“You keep saying that.”

“It keeps being true.”

He looked at me from across the table.

“What if I call her now?”

“It’s been almost two months,” Sidney groaned.

“Better late than never?”

“Eat your steak before I shove it up your ass.”

“I can do that.”

“Good.”