Page 3 of Unbreakable
I missed pretty much everything about it. But most of all, I missed my friends. The group of WAGs was in its best position yet. Rachel Beatty was like a sister to me, and though we still texted about everything under the sun, it wasn’t the same as being together. Plus, I had the Hollywood trio: Kitty Gatto, an actor and TV writer, Jessie Miknevicius, a costume designer and suit maker, and Annie Markham, who was technically a sports agent and not in Hollywood but she was Kitty’s best friend from growing up so she counted. I loved them.
Our kids were headed out to trick or treat with one of Dylan’s teammates’ families. They’d introduced us to this neighborhood for being private while still having a strong community.
“Why don’t you get in the picture, Mommy?” Dyl’s hand slipped into the curve of my waist, the place where he’d always held me, his way of literally touching base with me.
But the thing is, he used to kiss my temple whenever he slid in like that. Now we were down to just the waist-holding. Affection had been chipping away slowly since we moved to Ohio in August. What used to be a waist hold and a temple kiss was now a waist hold. What used to be his arms around me atthe stove, his nose buried in my neck, and a butt pat to finish it off was now him sitting at the kitchen island scrolling his phone. When we’d gone through stressful seasons before, casual touches were non-negotiable. Now they weren’t even part of the table stakes, a distant memory.
“A selfie with all of us,” I suggested, turning us and crouching so we could be on the same level as the kids.
“Say cheese!” I said.
“No, you have to say Halloween,” Alice argued, scowling in the first shots.
“You’re right, Al. Halloweeeeeen!”
“Let me take it!” came a friendly voice from the side. Dyl’s teammate Seb Lindberg approached with his wife Christine and their son Clark in a wagon.
“Oh, great. Thanks!” I handed my phone to Christine and rushed back to get in the picture before the kids squirmed away. “Halloween!”
As we stood after and I got my phone back, I peeked down into our wagon. “Oh, shoot. Daddy, I forgot the water bottles.”
Dylan, who I called Daddy in front of the kids to keep it easy, was distracted, lifting Bella to sniff her diaper. “Looks like we’ve got a diaper too.” He held Bella out for me to take.
I hesitated. I would not make a stink in front of Dylan’s new teammate, but I was pissed. Then again, I signed up for this life by marrying Dyl. I knew he’d be busy with hockey while our kids were at their smallest. My responsibility was to keep them, and our house, going.
Yes, I know I had little room to complain. We had plenty of money, though we did have to stretch it wisely. Dylan’s career could end at any moment due to a serious injury, and I hoped it wouldn’t be one that changed his personality. Multimillion-dollar contracts were only good for as long as he was hitting theice. He’d made it past the average age of retirement, now well over thirty.
I loved my kids. I loved Dylan. But since we moved to Ohio, I kept catching myself fantasizing about a different life. Dylan and I had a major fork in the road early on. What if I’d chosen the other side? The fantasy was enough to make anyone depressed. I was no stranger to the darkness, and I feared another tango with it was right around the corner.
Pull it together, Jeanine.
I gave Bella a bright smile and shifted her to my hip. “Next time, just ask to go to the potty, Bells. Even if you’re in your Halloween costume, we’ll get you there.”
Dylan and Seb’s chatter rang out behind me as I clomped up the driveway, my mention of the water bottles already forgotten. Dylan probably couldn’t wrap his brain around the fact that I got to do less socializing than he did, and maybe I really needed the adult conversation he was getting.
But he didn’t pick up on that, staying immersed in talking to his teammate while I headed back into our house to change Bella’s diaper. And get the kids’ water bottles.
Then I thought better of it. “Dyl?”
He turned around with a grin. “J?”
“Can you come get the water bottles? I can’t carry it all.”
“Oh, yeah.” He slapped his forehead to Christine and Seb’s laughter. “Guess I could help out, huh? Can you guys watch the kids for a minute?”
The candy was dumpedon the floor and sorted into piles, pulling out anything with peanuts because of Alice’s allergy. Then we sorted it again by who likes what. The kids wereall strung out on sugar and irrational tears spilled from every direction.
But when we got them to make very calm trades of the things they liked, Dyl caught my eye. He made his hands into a heart shape, sticking out his bottom lip, something he did to capture those moments of parenting we wanted to remember forever. I held up one a hand heart to agree with him. We were crazy about our kids, and Dylan was a great dad.
I just wished I didn’t have to be supermom all the time, all to no praise or thanks. My mom used to moan about the unseen labor when we were growing up, but I didn’t get it until it was my turn. Do what you’re supposed to do, your toddler kicks you in the face. Give in to their whims and you pay the consequences later.
But we’re not supposed to have feelings. We’re supposed to just weather it, suck it up and go. In that way, Dylan and I had a lot in common. He had to suck it up and go with hockey. We were comrades in the trenches, but I had less room to complain. And when I did, he was quick to write it off with, “Aw, sorry, babe,” or “You’ll figure it out.”
Dylan leaned behind Alice’s back, grinning to beg for a kiss. I met him there. “You look hot, Mommy Cat,” he cooed, just so I could hear.
“You too, Ghost Daddy,” I said, giving him another peck.
“After bedtime?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.
