Mr. Hat Trick

by Ainsley Booth

  Normal, but rare and precious, too. As we head back to my place, I make a silent promise to never take this—or her—for granted.

  43

  Sasha

  In March, I break it to my advisor that I’m not going to be looking for a tenure-track position—in Ottawa, or Seattle, or anywhere else. “My heart is in small business investment,” I tell her.

  She understands.

  That should give me confidence to have the same conversation with my father, but I put it off. Relations have been decidedly frosty since I stopped pretending that Tate and I aren’t an official couple. That’s only about my parents’ stubborn attachment to being right—because in public, Tate and I are the perfect model of adorable romance.

  In private, on the other hand… I blush to myself.

  So I put off calling my dad, and bury myself in finishing my PhD so I can devote myself full-time to my version of a venture capital firm, for real women with amazing ideas.

  I meet Tate in Chicago for his last game of the regular season against the Blackhawks, but we only have one night together. After the game, he flies on to St. Louis and I return to Ottawa.

  “The end is in sight, though,” I tell Ellie the next day as we slowly make our way to the university library. The thaw has finally come after a long winter, and I celebrated by buying us matching bright yellow rain boots.

  Quite appropriate for an adorable duckling mama to waddle her way across campus in.

  “Do you want to do another round of practice questions for your dissertation defence this afternoon?” she asks.

  I don’t defend until early May, but that’s when she’s due. And her own PhD is in a holding pattern while she takes her maternity leave, so really, her helping me is a good way to occupy her time.

  Plus it’s a nice trade for the gorgeous yellow boots.

  “Sure. And we can order in some lunch, too. What do you feel like?”

  “Uh…” She stops. Behind us, her security detail moves closer. “I…”

  I turn to look at her. She’s holding her belly, her eyes wide and panicked. “Ellie?”

  “I think my water just broke.”

  I look down at her light-coloured maternity pants. A dark stain blooms across the tops of her thighs. “Oh, shit.”

  “Sasha!”

  “Okay. Right. Ambulance? Gavin? Lachlan. I’ll call Lachlan.”

  She rolls her eyes at me and turns toward her RCMP shadows. “Hey, this is exciting, guys. Okay, so I’m fine. Just…wet. Are you calling Lachlan? No ambulance. Oh, damn it. This is too early.” Her voice wavers as she takes another step, then starts to hurry. “What car is closest?”

  Gavin and Lachlan beat us to the hospital. They’re waiting with a small army of men in black suits in the distance, a nurse, and a wheelchair as I pull up at the curb. Two RCMP officers spill out of my backseat like it’s a clown car and they’re about to do handstands. Gavin wrenches the passenger door open. “Come on,” he says to his wife, giving her his arm. “I’ve got you.”

  “She’s kicking up a storm,” Ellie says. “I don’t think she likes this.”

  “The first of many indignations I’m sure she’ll tell us about.” He kisses her gently. “It’s going to be fine.”

  “You’re not a doctor, you don’t know that.”

  He doesn’t blink at her panic. “Then let’s go upstairs and talk to those that are. Sasha, see you up there.”

  Once I’ve parked, I text Tate and Violet to update them on the news. Beth already knows, and she’s texting me a stream of instructions about Gavin.

  Tate: Are you okay? That sounds scary.

  Sasha: I’m fine now. My heart is racing a mile a minute, though.

  Violet: What does she need? Max is at work, I’ll send him up to maternity.

  Beth: Someone from the Privy Council office will be by soon to set up a secure room in the hospital for Gavin to work out of. I’ll be there tomorrow, unless he needs me sooner, but there’s a lot of rearranging that needs to happen to his schedule.

  Beth: Grab him a sandwich from the cafeteria, he hasn’t eaten lunch yet.

  Beth: Also, big hugs. You’re going to be an aunt!

  I stop in the hospital corridor and blink away tears at the last text.

  Who am, that I cry over babies and boyfriends? I barely recognize myself.

  Right. I need to be helpful. Cafeteria first, then I’ll find Max, get the medical scoop on a baby born early, and then update everyone once I know more.

  I take a deep breath, but it doesn’t do any good, so I race through the cafeteria, then I take the stairs to the maternity floor two at a time. I’m almost there when Max comes barrelling down the stairs in the opposite direction. It’s really quite convenient today that Gavin’s best friend is a paediatrician.

  “Max!”

  He stops and gives me a grin. “Hey. It’s all good. They’re in good hands.”

  “She was supposed to have the baby in May. This is early.”

  “Babies come at all different times. She’s thirty-five weeks now, which is just a bit shy of what we’d call full-term, so they’ll spend a couple of extra days here to make sure all is well, but don’t worry. Baby and mom are both going to be fine. They’re having an ultrasound right now if you want to get in there and see. I’ll be back after my afternoon clinic.”

  “Okay.”

  He squeezes my hand as he keeps going back the way I came, and I dart through the door marked Labour & Delivery.

  Seven hours later, Chandler Pia Montague Strong arrives into the world with a tiny, warbling little cry.

  I burst into tears, again. I don’t bother judging myself.

  Ellie holds her for a very short minute, then a ghostly-looking neonatology team in head-to-toe green takes her to an intense-looking cart where they make her cry louder. That seems to please them, because they give her back to Ellie, and I draw my over-protective auntie claws back into my fingers.

  Max and Violet squeeze in just before visiting hours end for a quick hello, and after hugging Ellie and Gavin and my new most favourite person in the entire world, Chandler, I walk out with them.

  “She makes Noah look like a two-year-old,” Violet exclaims. “So little.”

  “It won’t be long before she’s chasing him around.” Max looks at me. “Noah’s up on all fours now and trying desperately to crawl.”

  “Put candy in front of him and he’ll get there in a flash. Wait, no, pretend I didn’t say that. I want to be able to babysit Chandler.”

  Violet laughs. “Your secret is safe with us.”

  I wave goodbye to them and make my way to my car, where I just sit in the driver’s seat and exhale a really good, solid breath for the first time since Ellie said her water broke.

  * * *

  Tate: What are you doing now?

  Sasha: Sitting in my car at the hospital.

  * * *

  The phone rings two seconds later.

  “Crazy day,” he murmurs in my ear. And just like that, all the tension fades away.

  “Yep.”

  “Tell me about the drive to the hospital again. Is there a giant mess on your passenger seat?”

  “No, I had a towel in my gym bag. It’s fine. She sat on that.”

  “Are you still thinking of meeting me in Edmonton? If you want to change that up, I’ll totally understand.”

  “There is no way I’m missing your last game of the regular season. I’ll be there. Just prepare yourself for a lot of baby pictures.”

  44

  Tate

  We opened our season in Vancouver, but we’re ending the regular season play as visitors in Edmonton. Across the league, games are being played today that may change the final standings going into the play-offs.

  This game is no different.

  It’s Hockey Night in Canada. For more than twenty years, it’s been the central part of my week. Saturday night in front of the television, and then doing my damnedest to skate in an NHL uniform.<
br />
  And today may be the most important Saturday night in my entire life.

  Above us, the game is almost sold out, and the arena is vibrating with energy.

  The mood down here is more anticipatory than jittery. Andrushko’s got his hands on Lanvic’s iPod, but they can’t agree on what to play, so the song keeps changing every thirty seconds.

  The closer we get to puck drop, the tighter, more focused the chatter gets.

  Then the dressing room goes silent when Coach walks in.

  “We’ve got two things going for us tonight.” He holds up his index finger. “One, Edmonton has a play-off spot.” He sticks up a second finger. “And two, they’ve beaten us our last two times out. Chances are, they’ll get cocky and a bit sloppy. Keep your eyes open, take every opportunity you see. Don’t get fancy. Starting tonight: Nilsson, Moore, Simec, Andrushko, Lanvic, and Leclerc’s in the keep. It’s been a great season. Let’s see how much longer we can make it last. Now get out there and play great hockey.”

  As I skate out onto the ice, the first thing I do is find Sasha in the stands. When Andrushko pats my ass with his stick, Sasha and I grin at each other. Somehow, it’s become our thing.

  “At least you’re going to have a lot of extra time to correct your golf swing,” Edmonton’s centre, Gibson, mutters as he skates past me.

  Seriously? That’s the best this asshole’s got? “Who are you playing for next season, again?” I shoot back. I’ve heard whispers that Edmonton is looking to unload him. And from the black look on his face, I do believe I’ve hit a sore spot. I’m going poke it hard every chance I get right up until the final horn.

  Edmonton comes out strong in the first period, but we hold our own and we’re scoreless going into the second.

  The trash-talk flies fast and furious, but it seems the Edmonton players are a little sensitive tonight and halfway through the second, they make their first real mistake. Gibson misses a pass, it’s snagged by Moore, and he scores on the breakaway.

  We don’t need a goal horn to blow up Rogers Place. There’s enough noise that we know a good number of fans have flown in from Vancouver. He pumps his fist in the air as he skates back to centre ice, and Simec and I circle around him, letting Edmonton’s offensive line hear us tell our captain how fucking hot he is to us right now.

  I swear Moore blushes.

  But Edmonton comes back hard and ties it up just before the end of the second period, the bastards.

  Early in the third I make another crack at Gibson about the direction of his career, and he pops me one in the face. I grin at Sasha as I shake it off. He’s the fucker in the penalty box. I don’t care. And just like that, we’ve got a man advantage. Edmonton’s penalty killers are among the best in the league, but they’re no match for us tonight. Simec gets the powerplay goal and we’re back in lead.

  With just over a minute to go in the third period, Edmonton is still down by one. They pull their goalie to gain an extra attacker, and they manage to get one shot on our goal before Landvic gets the puck. He shoots it over to Simic who gets it up to me. I send it to Moore who fires it at the empty net with ten seconds left.

  Two points for the win, and our position in the league standings is safely inside the four wild card spots. We’ve just clinched a spot in the play-offs. Take that, Roger fucking Brown.

  And the night is still young.

  I have two things I need to do tonight. Clinching the play-off spot was number one. Check.

  Now I have to find Sasha.

  We’re in such a good place now. Her love is more than I ever thought I’d have, and she’s the centre of my universe.

  But I still haven’t met her parents. And that’s what I want to talk to her about.

  Now’s not the time, though. Now is the time to find her at the boards, give her a hard, happy kiss, and whisper that I love her before she blows me a final kiss and waves goodbye.

  Then it’s into the dressing room for a celebration, and all the time in the world for the press, because we’re feeling pretty good tonight.

  It’s more than two hours after the game by the time I let myself into our hotel room. Sasha is waiting on the bed, deliciously naked.

  Perfect.

  I stop just short of the bed and put my hands in my pockets. I want nothing more than to strip off my clothes and bury myself deep inside her body, her soul.

  And she knows it. She lifts an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure you should be at least half-naked by now.”

  “I’ll get there.” I smile down at her. My tiger.

  She sucks the tip of her index finger, then traces lazy circles around her nipple. “Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure we should be naked, celebrating post-season play.”

  She’s killing me. I strengthen my resolve. Because that’s not all I’m hoping to celebrate tonight. I grab her robe and hold it out to her. “I promise to get naked as soon as we talk.”

  “I can talk naked.”

  “Humour me,” I say, pushing her robe at her again.

  She gives me the cutest little pout as she grudgingly takes it and puts it on. “Okay. Talk.”

  I squeeze my hand in my pocket. “I was thinking it’s time for me to meet your parents.” And to say that out loud, I totally needed Sasha to not be naked.

  “Really? I don’t see the urgency.” She wrinkles her nose as she shifts her perch on the edge of the bed. “Definitely not until the post-season is over, anyway.”

  “I don’t know. I think we can fit in a flight to Toronto.” Here goes. My heart racing, I take Sasha’s hand, lacing my fingers with hers as I kneel in front of her. “I would really like to tell them in person that I’ve asked you to marry me.”

  “You—” Her eyes go wide as I pull the ring box out of my pocket. “Wow.”

  “What I’m trying to say is, you are my best friend, and I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, loving you, and even if you think it’s going to be the most awkward morning in the history of brunches, I would really like to meet your parents. If you want them to be my in-laws, it would be great to show them I’m not the boogyman. Will you marry me?”

  Putting her free hand behind my neck, she pulls me in and and kisses me hard on the mouth. “Yes,” she whispers, holding me tight. “I’ll marry you.”

  Best Hockey Night in Canada ever.

  She pulls me into a long, smouldering kiss. And when we come up for air, she slides her robe off one shoulder. “You’re done talking now, right?”

  45

  Sasha

  I’m in the room for a little more than an hour and a half. It feels crazy fast and painfully slow at the same time, and when I’m done, that’s it.

  I’m done.

  My thesis has been submitted to the university.

  I’ve completed a robust oral defence in front of the dissertation committee.

  I’m. Done.

  A PhD that I applied for on a lark, in an attempt to buy five more years before getting sucked into the family business, that taught me so much about myself and the world and women and business, is now one beat away from being complete.

  The rest of my life stretches in front of me, and it feels very weird.

  Also, wonderful.

  I take a deep breath as I step out of the small lecture room we used for my defence. On the door is a paper sign.

  Closed Session

  Please do not disturb

  I pace across the hall and wait in front of the window while the committee deliberates.

  It takes ten minutes. Dr. Turnbull pushes the door open and gestures for me to re-enter.

  “On behalf of the committee, I am pleased to inform you that we consider your thesis and the defence you have just presented to be of top quality. Congratulations, you have unanimously passed this oral exam.”

  There’s some paperwork to sign, then handshakes all around.

  When I step out of the room again, Tate is waiting at the end of the hall.

  “You sneak,” I
whisper when I reach him. “Where have you been hiding?”

  “Ellie introduced me to the graduate program coordinator. She’s a fan.”

  “I’m aware.” I take his hand and squeeze his fingers. “Hi.”

  “Hey.”

  “So…”

  He raises his eyebrows. “Yes?”

  “I passed.”

  “I never had any doubt you would.”

  I exhale and do the world’s fastest happy dance before I settle down again. “Now, to dinner.”

  “Don’t make that face. We’re going to the best steakhouse in the city.”

  “Yes, but we won’t be alone.”

  “Do I look worried about that?”

  I shake my head. “I love you. But your optimism is entirely out of place in the Brewster family.”

  We’re the first to arrive at the restaurant. My parents arrive next.

  “Well,” my father booms a little too loudly. “How did it go?”

  “I got a gold star on my popsicle-stick art project,” I say because I can’t help myself.

  Tate snorts and my mother sighs.

  “It went well. I’ll graduate next month.”

  “And then you’re off to Iceland?” My dad says that like we’re moving to a hippie commune.

  “For a much-deserved vacation, yes we are. Midnight sun and all that.” Naked hot springs, too, but I remember to keep that part to myself.

  The door to restaurant swings open, and in walk Tate’s parents. His mom gives me a reassuring smile. We’ve only met once, and she guessed that I was the person who ate most of her Christmas dinner leftovers.

  I’m really not sure how tonight is going to go.