I can tell he’s thinking about protesting, about wanting to go back up to the suite and put on a show of being the good sport who only feels happiness for being here.
I know it’s not true. I know this is more complicated than what someone can process in two weeks, so I’ll happily be the one to give him this space.
“Just sit and breathe,” I urge him, stroking his arms from shoulder to wrist. It’s easier when he does finally sit, and not only because he mimics my breathing. He inhales deeply, then a long exhale brushes my forehead as his eyes slowly drift closed. “There we go. You’re okay. We’re okay, and whatever you’re feeling, I’m here, Lex.”
His hands come up to my waist as he keeps breathing, as his shoulders drop lower and lower.
A flood of love for him fills me.
I get to be the person who’s next to him in the locker room when he’s being celebrated, and I’ll be next to him later when they probably show him and our family on the jumbotron and the fans will more than likely go insane for him, but I’m also the one who sees this side of him.
The one so few get the privilege of.
And every day we get closer to that moment when we’ll be able to be like this whenever and wherever.
I’ll make sure it’s not too long now, even if the spotlight on him gets brighter—and that’s apparent more than ever when, just like I thought, they show him with his brand-new Demons jersey and he waves at the crowd. His smile is so easy, no one would suspect what went on before the game.
And just like I thought, the fans almost blow the roof of Barclay Arena off because yeah, Alexei motherfucking Jankowski is in the house.
Lex’s wordsafter the game is that a three–two win for the Demons is respectable, and no one disagrees. I don’t offer my input, first because I also agree, but also because I want to learn more, from him and from my own research, so I can actually have an intelligent conversation about hockey with him.
Soon.
For now we all go home and get some rest after such an emotional day.
Wednesday is quieter, with me staying home except for a few hours when I have to go back to the office, but mostly I work from home, and Lex works out in the basement gym Dad installed for him all those years ago.
After Ally gets in on Thursday, we all pack ourselves into three cars—because with bodyguards it’s bound to get too crowded otherwise—and head to Irvington to check out the house Lex fell in love with.
We all insisted he had to at least walk through it before putting in an offer, even though he was adamant they’d had certified inspections done and it was livable, but we won that argument.
It’s a two-story colonial-style brick home that has ivy running up the sides, a perfectly manicured front lawn, and a long driveway, so it’s away from the main road. Surrounded by big trees and with a back yard made for big gatherings, it’s inviting.
The kitchen and bathrooms are a bit outdated, and need, if not a full remodel, at least new coats of paint and appliances.
The four bedrooms each have their own en-suite bathrooms, though, which is apparently a must for Lex.
He spends most of the tour admiring the big windows in every room, and Lyla talks about how the three-car garage on the left of the main house and the kitchen nook on the right side have lower ceilings and give so much character to the build.
Ruko’s favorite part is the back yard with the big kidney-shaped pool and outdoor kitchen that has enough room for a big table and a cozy hang-out place. He cracks me up every time he mentions where a TV should go in each room, showing his priorities clearly, and he even chooses what will be his room for visits.
Lex spends the whole time smiling like a lunatic.
Once the tour is done and we’re walking out, though, Lyla demands Lex give her the phone number of the realtor, and we listen while she impersonates his personal assistant or whatever and negotiates with them on the first offer.
“You’re a grown man, baby,” she says, somehow not sounding condescending. “But that house is not worth the asking price, and we’re not going to let you get robbed blind just because you can pay.”
I think about mentioning how I’d like to pay for half of it, but refrain. Not only because we’re in front of his parents, but because I want to be able to really talk about it and explain my reasoning to him.
If he refuses, then I’ll understand, but I do want to ask him if we can move in together. It might seem stupid to him, since we practically already are, but it’s still important to me to ask.
When we get back home, though, he mentions the team gathering the next day and I lose my nerve.
I’ll do it tomorrow, I tell myself.
I’m mentally rehearsing everything I want to say when I go out and buy tiny racetracks for Tucker’s brothers—Mason and Maddox are apparently car enthusiasts and quite knowledgeable at three years old.
But when he gets back late Friday night, I admit I grab the chance to avoid it with both hands and let Lex go on and on about the dinner.
