Page 14 of Much Ado About Hockey

“On paper.”

Her voice was like steel wrapped in silk—firm, but not unkind. He leaned forward, trying to make sense of this strange, beautiful creature in front of him who had flipped his whole world upside down without even trying.

“But we’re supposed to give it our all, remember?”

“That doesn’t mean in bed – that means we begin a friendship and hope it grows into a relationship someday that we can hold onto. If not, we find a way to amicably divorce and split our assets.”

His jaw tightened, and frustration prickled beneath his skin. This wasn’t how he’d pictured it. This wasn’t how it was supposed to feel.

“If I can’t call you Wifey-pooh, you cannot call me an asset.”

“An asset is an account or something we purchased jointly – you are thinking of another word I shall not repeat,” she said primly.

Jett ground his teeth, his pride bruised and his brain trying to catch up with her logic. She made everything sound so tidy, so planned. Like love was a spreadsheet instead of a spark. He wasn’t used to feeling dumb—but next to her, it was like trying to do algebra while eating soup with a fork.

Still, there was something electric about her intelligence, about the way she shut him down without being cruel. It reminded him of tasting Nutella for the first time—like he’d been fine without it, sure, but now that he knew it existed, he couldn’timagine life without it. She was hazelnut and chocolate and fire and thorns. And heaven help him, he wanted another taste.

Karen was his Nutella.

There was no undoing that discovery.

“We need to discuss what this whole new job in Quebec involves and…” she started.

“We’re moving to Quebec,” he said simply.

She blinked at him, caught mid-thought.

“I will need to give notice, find a job, and…” she began again, her voice tinged with logic, responsibility, and reality.

“You don’t have to work,” he replied, perhaps too quickly. Too casually. His heart beat a little harder. Why did this feel like a test?

“I need purpose,” Karen uttered, and the disbelief in her voice sliced at him like paper cuts. “I need something to do with myself and my time.”

He stepped toward her, helpless to stop the words that came next. “Me,” he said softly, earnestly, like it was the simplest truth in the world.Me. Your husband. The man who’s trying.

But instead of tenderness, what he got in return was…laughter.

Not just a chuckle.

Not even a giggle.

Karencackled. Shehowled. Her laughter ricocheted off the tile and cabinets and into his pride like a battering ram. She wascryingshe was laughing so hard, bending over and clutching her side, and he stared at her in wide-eyed horror.

“What? It’s not funny,” he protested, brow furrowing. “You can occupy yourself with your husband, and if you need to do something—you can dome. I believe in monotony and…”

His voice faded when her laughter doubled. She threw her head back with abandon, and Jett caught a glimpse of a filling in her back molar. How did she make that seem… cute?

“Karen?”

“Oh my gosh… stop… I can’t breathe…”

“What did I say that was so funny?”

“It’smonogamy,” she wheezed out, wiping her eyes.

“No. That’s a type of wood.”

And just like that, she dissolved again—clutching her stomach, eyes squeezed shut, barely standing.

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