Page 18 of Much Ado About Hockey

It was barely eleven thirty, and after having a mild panic attack, taking a long bubble bath, and then trying to figure out how she was going to give her notice, what she would pack first, and researching what historical sites were in Quebec… it was nearly three in the morning before she went to bed – and no.

She was not athletically inclined in the slightest. Dialing his number, she sat back against her headboard and sighed.

“Heyyy… you’re alive.”

Karen rubbed the sleep from her eyes, the weight of a restless night still heavy on her shoulders. Her head throbbed dully, a cruel reminder of the tossing and turning that had plagued her until dawn.

The morning light spilled through the half-drawn curtains, far too bright, too loud for how fragile she felt inside. The shrill buzz of her phone had pulled her from a shallow doze, and nowJett’s voice danced through the speaker, far too energetic for her sluggish state.

“Funny, Jett,” she replied groggily, her voice a mix of amusement and irritation. “I didn’t sleep well last night and…”

“Man, I got the best sleep ever, and I’m sorry you didn’t, but maybe this will help – we got the condo and pick up the keys on Friday. I’ve got the movers already arranged; well, my agent does, but I just need your address so they know where to get your stuff. We’ve gotta a heckuva drive unless you wanna fly, and we can have my car shipped, but your Kia… I was thinking maybe it was time to part ways and get you something new because,ugh,” he rushed, the words tumbling out in a breathless, excited ramble. Then came the gagging sound—dramatic and childish—and still somehow endearing.

“You strike me as a sleek kinda woman – how about an Audi or maybe something with a bit more spice to it like a Bentley. I could see you driving a plush little Benz or…”

She groaned, dragging a hand through her hair, fingers catching on tangles that hadn't been brushed out the night before. “It’s too early for this,” she grumbled, more to herself than to him. The fog of sleep clung to her, but something in his words tugged her mind into clearer focus. She paused. “You want me to get a different car?”

“Let’s put it this way, if I have an out-of-town game and your car gasps its last breath, I don’t want you stranded on the side of the road somewhere. I’d feel better if you had a new car with all the bells and whistles.”

Karen sat up slowly, her brows furrowing. She wasn’t sure what unsettled her more—the fact that he was planning her life with such casual certainty, or the part of her that ached to let him. “You know those extra bells and whistles mean that is just more to break on a car, right?”

“Humor me… please?”

His voice softened at the end, a plea tucked between the lines. And for a moment, her heart ached with the sincerity in it. He wasn’t trying to control her. He was trying to care for her. He just didn’t always know how to do it gently.

She bit her lip, replaying the rush of information he’d unloaded. A condo. Movers. A new car. A move. Everything was happening so fast—too fast. Still, her voice came out steadier when she asked, “We’ll be in Canada next weekend?”

“Yes, ma’am. Are you free tomorrow night? My family wants to meet you, and it’s important to me that we say ‘bye’ together. Oh, and I opted for the larger condo we picked – the one with the guest room…”

Her heart sank. That wasn’t the plan. That wasn’t whattheyhad agreed on.

“Jett, that wasn’t what we agreed on.”

“I need a guest room.”

Her pulse quickened, heat rising in her chest. “I liked the office that overlooked the gardens – not the one facing the city.”

“Too late.”

The words hit her like a slap. “No, it’s not – call them back.”

“I can’t, and I’m not. I need a place for my family to come stay when they visit…”

His voice was calm, rational even, but all she could hear was the dismissal in it. All she could feel was the sting of being overridden again.

“They can use my room because I’m not going if you are going to ignore my requests and do whatever it is you want anyhow,” she said angrily, bolting upright. Her heart pounded in her chest as fury surged through her veins. “Why ask my opinion if you don’t care what I think?”

He spoke again, but she barely heard him.

“Because we need a guest room when my family visits.”

“You said that already.”

“And it’s on the opposite side of the condo, so we have privacy,” he whispered.

Privacy. Space. Distance. The words scratched against the raw edges of her feelings. He was trying to reason, she knew that, but every word felt like a confirmation that this wasn't about building something together—it was about him making room for her in something he’d already chosen. She felt the burn in her eyes before she could stop it.

“Karen, please? I know you wanted to face the gardens, but marriage is about compromise, remember?”

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