Page 64 of The Riley Effect

“Starving.”

“Let’s go see what we have.” I throw her one of my clean t-shirts, and she heads to the kitchen while I make a pitstop in the bathroom. When I finally reach the kitchen, I find Ivy with a row full of buttered bread and a pan heating on the stove.

“I wasn’t sure what was for tomorrow’s dinner, so I thought grilled cheese was a safe bet.”

I let Ivy do her thing while I pour us some wine.

“What about some music?” I ask with my face in my phone, ready to select the playlist I’ve been working on since our first date when she was too self-conscious to play her music in my car.

Song after song plays, and Ivy dubs them all as her favorite.

“What’s this playlist?” Ivy asks as we finish the last of our dinner. “I love every song on it.”

I slide my phone to her and watch as confusion lines settle on her forehead.Ivy’s Favorites.“Did you make this?”

I rub the back of my neck. “You were just so against playing music in my car that first time that I thought if I had a playlist with all your favorites, you’d realize I don’t care what we listen to as long as I’m listening to it with you.”

Ivy rises from her seat across from me and makes herself at home in my lap. “I can’t believe how seen you make me feel, Jalen. Thank you.”

The kiss she presses to my lips and the way she sneaks her tongue past them should be a lesson to all men that sometimes a simple gesture can do more than the most expensive piece of jewelry.

She pulls away from me as Elvis Presley’sCan’t Help Falling In Lovestarts playing through the Bluetooth speakers.

“Dance with me?” She asks as if I could ever say no to her. I place her on her feet and take her hand in mine, and we spend the rest of the night dancing in my childhood kitchen.

Christmas Eve is the best day of the year, better than my birthday, better than the season opener and better than the Fourth Of July.

When I was younger, we would go visit my Mom’s familydown south or before my Dad’s family left the city, we’d spend it with them. At some point, my hockey career had to take precedence, so it meant a quiet Christmas’ with just the three of us before some kind of hockey showcase. It always felt right. We’d go to afternoon mass before heading home, where Mom would make The Feast of The Seven Fishes, an Italian Christmas tradition.

Holidays like these helped shape the close-knit relationship we have. Bringing Ivy home this weekend was more than a simple meeting with the boyfriend’s parents. It was integrating her into my family’s traditions.

Ivy has survived the first Holloway Christmas Eve tradition with afternoon mass. She handled all the old ladies who watched me grow up with grace. They couldn’t stop doting all over her and telling her all the embarrassing stories from my childhood that only they could get away with telling.

This morning, when I went to shower, I left two tickets to Madison Square Garden on Ivy’s pillow for the Knicks game tonight. I wanted to bring Ivy here because as this season goes on, there is more speculation that the New York Rangers will take me as their lottery pick in the upcoming draft, so The Garden could soon be my home, too.

Ivy hasn’t stopped smiling since I gifted her these tickets this morning. She squeezes my hands as we step on the steep escalator that will bring us up to the arena’s entryway. The walls are lined with past and present superstars who had career-defining moments in this arena.

I watch Ivy as she takes in the history of the sports that have provided us with so much throughout our lives.

“Was it always hockey for you?” Ivy asks as we stop in front of a display paying homage to the 1994 Stanley Cup winners.

“Yeah, it was,” I tell her as memories of my childhood run through my mind. “I remember thinking my dad was going to bemad at me, but he came up to me one day and told me that it was okay if I liked it more. He told me he and Mom would support me no matter what I wanted to do.”

When I look back at Ivy, she has a single tear running down her cheek. I wipe it away with my thumb. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“After spending time with your family, I’m realizing everything that I have missed out on with mine. Thank you for sharing yours with me. I really loved the ladies from church.”

“Of course, you did,” I mumble–remembering the embarrassing stories she took too much joy in listening to–before pulling her in. Her coffee-colored eyes hold secrets I know she wants to share.

“I know you didn’t have the time you wanted with your parents, and the holidays are hard for you, but my family is yours. We want to make memories with you for as long as you’ll have us. One day, when we have a family of our own, they will be able to listen to a treasure trove of memories that we have made over the years.”

Ivy’s eyes are locked on a map of the arena as we try to find the section our seats are in. Anxiety starts creeping up the longer the silence goes on. When her gaze takes hold of mine, I notice the red tint in her cheeks. “That’s the first time you’ve spoken about having a family with me. Is that really what you want?” Her nose crinkles and her eyes squint as she bashfully looks at me.

“Ivy, I wouldn’t have brought you here to spend time with my favorite people during my favorite time of the year if I didn’t want my future to have you in it.”

Ivy takes a moment, trying to decide if my words are sincere. She takes my hand and starts down the hall after pressing her lips to the top of it.

“Come on, babe, let’s go enjoy the game.”

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