Have faith, Emilia, I tell myself and use the break for another visit to the bathroom.
Not much happens during overtime. New York builds a wall of players in front of their goal and my boys don’t find a way through it.
I hate this stupid team. And stupid they are. At least their management—they have to be, after they traded Matt to the Ice Tigers. I’m not sure whether to send them my condolences or a big fat thank-you card.
Is there a world record about how many times you can shift around in your seat in a minute? If there is, I have broken it by now.
Whoever invented the concept of a shootout must have been a sadist. Overtime is hell, but a shootout…. Who does that? I want to turn my gaze away from the arena, and yet my eyes stay glued to the players approaching the goal. One after the other.
Tyler shoots first. And nails it. But so does his opponent from New York.
The same happens to Smithy, Nessy, and Peter.
Then it’s Matt’s turn. I push myself from my seat and get as close as possible to the glass separating the box from the arena. And my grandfather joins me.
Matt takes position behind the red line and takes a run toward the puck.
Without wanting to, I take my grandfather’s hand and hold on to it. “Sorry,” I murmur, but to my surprise he keeps my hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly.
“He’ll shoot a goal.”
And what Eduardo Ravelli wants, Eduardo Ravelli gets. But this time you won’t hear me complaining.
Matt hits the puck so hard, at first, I don’t see if it went into the net. But the deafening cheers from our home crowd and the rest of the Ice Tigers freaking out on our bench is confirmation enough. He’s done it. He’s my hero. And always will be.
But one player from New York still has the chance to tie.
I close my eyes. My heart beats like a thunderstorm in my chest. It’s just the next step, Emilia. Just one step. They can do it.
The crowd goes crazy. So crazy I’m afraid the roof is going to blast off. They missed. We’ve won.
Without thinking, I press a kiss to my grandfather’s cheek and blush after I realize what I’ve done.
“You might have to hold a speech before every game now.”
He doesn’t smile, but his eyes sparkle. I smile and squeeze his hand before I head where I want to be most. In Matt’s arms.
Making my way through the million people gathered in the tunnels around the locker room takes me longer than I want to.
Opening the door, I pause inside the doorframe, taking in the joyful faces and happy banter. They… we’ve come a long way, but we made it. As a team.
My eyes find Matt’s over the sea of media people surrounding him, and I mouth, I love you, Captain, and he mock-bows and mouths, I love you, milady. And the room erupts into cheers, praising their captain and his lady—assistant captain, but who cares at this point? We’ve taken another step in the right direction, and nothing else matters.
Chapter 24
Matt
Ten seconds separate me from my childhood dream. The playoffs have been the biggest challenge of my life. And yet just another step, just like Signore Ravelli said.
Nine seconds now. Nine seconds to reflect on all the years that led to this very moment, while keeping Calgary from shooting a goal.
Eight seconds left. Eight seconds can fly by in a whim or feel like an eternity. I’ve dreamed about this moment a million times or more, but reality couldn’t be further away from my dreams. In my dreams, my feet weren’t ready to fall off and my face didn’t feel like it was four times its size, thanks to being smashed into the boards by two-hundred-pound defensemen all night. Game seven was a war zone. Nothing pretty about it. In the end, it doesn’t matter; no one will give us bonus points for the most beautiful hockey game played in history.
Five seconds left. Five seconds to come to terms with the fact that my dad isn’t here tonight and won’t celebrate this win with me. I send him tickets, but he never got back to me. I wish things were different, but I won’t force a relationship between us. I have my own family to think of now.
One second left on the clock.
“We Are the Champions” blares from the sound system, and glittering confetti falls from the ceiling. We’ve done it. We’ve fucking won the Cup. My feet don’t hurt anymore, and I forget about the icepack for my battered face.
I throw my gloves and helmet on the ice and hug every teammate I can grab before we form a big circle and jump around like morons. Tyler is crying right next to me while Smithy can’t stop laughing.
What a season; what an emotional roller-coaster ride it has been, but every challenge has prepared and brought us closer to the endgame. As great as it is to be buried between my teammates as we celebrate, there’s only one person in this madhouse I want to share this moment with. I disengage myself from the big pile of hockey players, searching the crowd.
Emilia is just about to step out on the ice with the other wives. Beaming at her, I skate to her and pull her in my arms. “I love you.” I’m not sure if she can hear what I say, but she hugs me as close as possible with her protruding stomach, and for a second there’s only the two of us—or the four of us. Me and my little family.
Emilia pulls back, looking up at me with shiny eyes. “I’m so proud of you. You’ve done it.”
“We’ve done it, Emy. We couldn’t have done it without you. I couldn’t have done it without you. I love you so much.” I place a big kiss on her mouth, ignoring the photographers advancing toward us.
“I love—” She tumbles into me, holding her belly.
“What is it?”
She looks up briefly but doesn’t answer me. Instead, she looks down again.
What is going on? It can’t be the babies; they aren’t due until later next week. Please, let everything be all right. “Emilia, talk to me.”
She shakes her head, still looking down. I follow her gaze. Shit.
“Call an ambulance. Emilia’s water broke!” I scream over the loud music.
For a moment, everyone freezes around us, and then they are all over the place. Emilia finally looks up with wide eyes. I caress her cheek and kiss her. “I’ve got you, Emy. Just hold tight.”
“My grandfather will have a heart attack.” She sniffles. “My water just broke on live TV.”
“The Ravelli twins know how to make an entrance,” I say against her hair, and I swear she chuckles.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lily, bless her, already waving the paramedics over. I carry my precious bundle off the ice, escorted by Tyler and Smithy, who arrived out of nowhere once I yelled for help.
“Carry her to the locker room. We’ll be right with you.” Dr. Miller appears next to me when I step off the ice. I nod and I walk backstage through the sea of reporters, while Emilia’s head rests on my shoulder.
“How are you doing?” I place Emilia on the floor, since the small benches don’t offer more comfort. “When did you start having contractions?”
“I’m fine. I don’t know. I thought they were Braxton Hicks. They started around noon.” Her expression is pinched. “We have to time them.”
I jump up and hobble over to my spot to search for my watch. “Okay, tell me when the next one starts.” I hobble back and sink down next to Emilia. Damn, walking in skates on a surface other than ice isn’t fun.
“Can you help me out of my panty hose? They’re soaked.” She looks down at her wet clothes.
I shuffle forward, careful not to hurt myself with the sharp blades of my skates. I should get rid of them, but Emilia’s well-being is more important right now. Together, we manage to pull down her soaked garment. Then I shuffle over to the bench and grab my phone and a towel from my locker to clean away the fluid between and on her legs.
Then I take my place beside her again and pull her close to me, supporting her with my body. Where are the damn paramedics? And Dr. Miller? What’s taking them so long?
My hands shake as I wait wit
h her for the next contraction. This whole situation feels surreal. While music is blasting in the arena and the team celebrates the big win, I’m sitting on the floor in the locker room next to my wife. But there’s no place I’d rather be.
“Now.” Emilia’s breathing becomes labored, and her body stiffens like a board in my arms.
“Keep breathing. Just like we’ve practiced. Come on, Emy. Breathe with me.” Sounding like a steam railway while breathing, I help her through the contraction and hopefully through the pain. Thank God for these breathing exercises. Even though I felt ridiculous during the birthing class, I’m glad we practiced them and I’m able to support Emilia now.
“Timer is set. Tell me when the next one begins.” I kiss her head.
She slumps in my arms, and I hold her as if my life depends on it. Which it does. Sort of. Minutes can feel like hours, and hours can feel like minutes. But waiting for the next contraction time is immeasurable. I’d give both my arms and legs to spare her the pain.
“Now.” Emilia’s body stiffens in my arms. Just after I hit the timer, the door crashes open and Dr. Peters bursts inside, followed by Dr. Miller. Thank God someone got a hold of Dr. Peters. And thank God we gave him VIP tickets for the finals.
“Mrs. Ravelli-Walker, Mr. Walker, I’ve heard the Ice Tigers’ family is about to grow.” Dr. Peters drops on his knees beside us.
“Emilia’s water broke while we were celebrating on the ice, and her contractions are only two minutes apart. We need to take her to a hospital.” I wipe the sweat from my forehead with one hand.
Dr. Peters puts on gloves. “Let’s have a look. Mrs. Ravelli-Walker, I need to lift your dress.”
“Please call me Emilia. If you call me Mrs. Ravelli-Walker every time, the babies might arrive before I can push.”
He chuckles. “All right, but you must call me Jamie.”
“Jamie.” She leans against me while he pokes between the legs. It’s weird to see another man fingering her down there, but it’s necessary, isn’t it? He continues his examination, patting her belly.
“No, we won’t be going to the hospital. Your cervix is already fully dilated. Tell me if you feel the urge to push. We’ll have a house birth. It won’t be long before you can hold your babies.” He smiles at Emilia then turns to Dr. Miller. “We need towels and hot water.”
Dr. Miller runs outside, looking relieved to have an excuse to leave the room. Being a birth helper to his boss may not have been on his agenda.
“Don’t worry, Emilia. Everything looks fine. The babies are in the right position.”
I cradle Emilia closer, cursing my pads when I can’t pull her close enough. But taking off the gear takes time. Time I’d lose holding her.
Another contraction ripples through her body, and I wish there was something I could do to take away the pain. But she laughs. I’ve read that woman do funny things during labor. Who am I to judge? Who knows what I would do under those circumstances? But her laugh doesn’t sound like it’s a hysterical reaction to pain. “Why are you laughing?”
“It’s just… since my first day here, all I’ve been doing is improvising. We’ve got this, Matt. We’ve got this.” And I believe her. How could I not? This woman is the strongest person I know. I trust her with my life, and with the lives of our soon-to-be-born children.
Lily enters the room, placing towels and bowls with what I assume is the hot water next to us before she retreats.
“I feel pressure.”
“Let’s see. Yup, the first baby is in the birth canal. When the next contraction starts, I need you to push. Relax and gather your strength.”
“Okay.” Her voice sounds weak but determined. She grabs my hand, and I squeeze hers in return.
“You’ve got this, Emy. I love you.”
She doesn’t answer. Her eyes are closed, and her breathing is labored. But she’s got this. I believe in her.
“Now.” She squeezes my hand so hard I’m afraid she’ll break every bone—not that it matters. She can destroy my hand any day while in labor. After four more contractions, my hand is numb—I-have-no-feeling-and-never-will-get-it-back numb. How any woman would want to repeat this experience is out of my understanding. I suffer with her but can only imagine how hard it must be for her. I’m ready to pass out at this point.
“One more push,” Dr. Peters says. Oh thank God.
Emilia’s body shakes in my arms then slumps against me. And there it is. The first wail of our firstborn child. Emilia looks up at me. She’s more beautiful than she’s ever been.
“Here’s our little baby boy.” Dr. Peters wraps the baby in a towel and kneels next to me. “Take your baby, Daddy.”
I cradle my arms and wait for him to place the little bundle in them.
“He’s beautiful.” Emilia’s voice croaks, and tears stream down her face. “Luca Fabio Ravelli?”
I nod, not trusting my voice. He looks like a Luca. And he is beautiful. Even though he’s screaming like a madman, his face an angry pinch. I sob. And I can’t stop. How do I deserve this wonder? I’m so absorbed in Luca’s tiny face that I don’t feel Emilia squeezing my hand again as she prepares to give birth to our baby girl. The world around me blurs, and the only thing in focus is Luca’s little face as he opens his unfocused eyes. I’m overflowing with love for this bundle. He arrived a few minutes ago, but life without him seems impossible even after mere seconds.
A second wail sounds in the room. The little princess knows how to make an entrance.
I watch as Dr. Peters prepares her to be placed in Emilia’s arms, while Luca squirms in mine. “Shh, you’ll meet your sister in a second. She’s quite something, screams even louder than you.” I place a kiss on his forehead.
“Anna Maria Ravelli?” Emilia asks when she finally has our daughter in her arms.
“It’s perfect.” My voice breaks. Holy shit. If someone told me a year ago I’d win the Cup and have twins on the same night, I wouldn’t have believed them. Emilia has turned my world upside down. But in the best possible way. Her courage, her strength, and her unwavering love have shown me what I was missing in my life—love.
“I love you so much.” I bend over and kiss her.
While Dr. Peters works between Emilia’s thighs, we get acquainted with the new additions to our family. Comparing them to each other, we each trace the lines of their little faces and let little fingers grab our hands. Out of the corner of my eye, I see people entering the room, placing a stretcher next to Emilia.
“We’re ready to take you to the hospital. Let me take your little girl while we place you on the stretcher, Emilia.” Dr. Peters smiles at us.
I wait for the doctor to return our daughter to Emilia before I tell him to hold Luca. My knees shake so much I have trouble standing up.
“You all right?” Emilia places a hand on my arm.
“More than okay. A little light-headed. One doesn’t become a father every day, right?” I steady myself and reach for Luca, waiting for Dr. Peters to open the door.
Lily and Tyler are standing among the others in front of the door, and I stop to introduce them to my newborn son. “Please meet little Luca.”
“Well done.” Tyler slaps me on the shoulder.
“He’s precious. Do you need anything? Can we bring your stuff to the hospital?” Bless, Lily.
“I could use some clothes. And Emilia’s hospital bag is at home in the hallway. It’s a big blue bag; you can’t miss it. My keys are in my pants—”
“We’ve got this. Take care of your wife and babies.” Tyler pushes me forward, and I walk as steady as possible on my skates while my waiting teammates pat me on the shoulder to congratulate us as I pass them.
When I step outside, fans cheer from behind the fence dividing the public parking lot from the VIP section. I give them a brief nod but turn to the ambulance. I don’t want to expose Luca to the cold longer than necessary.
“You have to take off your skates,” the paramedic tells me before I can step in
side the ambulance. Shit. Well, it can’t be helped. I place my son in Dr. Peter’s arms and set a new world record in unlacing my skates. Looking up, I spot a young boy in an Ice Tigers jersey just behind the fence, and I run over on bare feet, handing him the skates. Accompanied by the applause of the fans, I enter the ambulance, and we leave the arena.
“Don’t you want to celebrate with the team?” Emilia’s voice is hoarse from lack of sleep.
I turn to her, taking my eyes only briefly away from the little bundle in my arms. “We’re celebrating. Luca is practicing on his spit-bursting bubbles.” Our little boy fiddles in my arms as if to emphasize my statement.
“How’s that going?” Emilia sits upright.
“Look for yourself.” I sit down beside her and carefully place Luca in her arms.
She looks down at him with the same fascination I’m sure she can find in my expression and caresses his soft baby cheek.
“How’s the little princess doing?” Her eyes never leave Luca. I’ll only play second or third fiddle from now on, but I’m not complaining. My son deserves all the love in the world.
“She’s practicing her beauty sleep.”
“Anna Maria already knows what’s important in life.” She laughs briefly, but stops, holding her middle.
“What is it? Do you need a doctor?” I jump up from the bed.
She shakes her head. “This little fellow here has a pretty big head. I’m just tender.”
Yeah, he has a big head. Poor Emilia. “Shame on you, little man, to hurt Mommy.” I bend down and stroke his cheek, overflowing with love for the tiny human being.
“I’ll be fine.” Emilia palms my cheek. Her eyes sparkle with love and happiness, and I want to savor this moment forever.
I bend over, and our lips meet in a lingering kiss, making me want more. But Luca fiddles between us and I pull away. “I love you. Thank you for our babies, Emilia. I always thought winning the Cup would fulfill me like nothing else…”
Center of Gravity: An Accidental Pregnancy Romance (An Ice Tigers Hockey Romance Book 2) Page 26