Page 91 of Honest Boys Don’t Play

“Girlfriend,” she finishes. “He’s the rookie that’s staying with us.”

I hear Rory cry across the room and even though I know he’s in good hands, I don’t want to be away from him. “I better go check on him.”

“No worries. I hope I can get some more baby snuggles later.”

I cross the room over to where my friends and Luke’s mom have taken up residence. Rosie already has a flailing Rory in her arms.

“Someone wants his momma,” she tuts, passing him to me.

He gives a loud cry that has a few heads turning our direction.

“Come here, sweetie.” I take him and settle him into my arms in the position he likes. Instantly, he begins to settle. I brush my finger along his cheek. “Did you just want momma you sweet boy?” He makes a cooing sound in response. “We’re going to watch Dada and his team play hockey. What do you think about that?” His eyes grow impossibly larger like he somehow knows exactly what I’m saying. He purses his lips at me and sucks. “You shouldn’t be hungry yet,” I tease. In response, he scrunches his face up and begins to turn bright red. “All right, all right.”

I sit down and get comfortable before I settle him at my breast.

I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about breastfeeding, but thus far it’s gone easier for me than I expected, and I know I’m lucky that’s the case. But it doesn’t mean it’s entirely smooth sailing. It can be downright exhausting. I praise the women who are able to do this long term. Right now, my goal is to make it until he’s six months old, but if I need to stop sooner that’s okay too. I just want to do whatever is best for me and him.

Luckily, I get him fed and burped before the game begins and Jocelyn takes him when I’m finished and rocks him back to sleep. I’m not sure what I’m going to do when he doesn’t sleep so much.

“Do you want to use the restroom before the game starts?” Rosie asks.

As if she’s woken up my bladder, it screams in protest. “Yeah, I should.”

We leave the boys with Daire and Luke’s mom and head down the hall to the nearest restroom.

As soon as we’re inside, Rosie turns on me. “You seem stressed. Are you okay?”

Her concern catches me off guard. “I … what?”

“Are you okay?” she repeats. “I just want to make sure you’re all right. I don’t know much about postpartum depression and I’m not saying you have it, but I just want to check in and make sure you’re okay.”

“I mean … I’m a little anxious and stressed at times, but overall, I think I’m doing good.”

Her shoulders droop in relief. “Oh, thank God. Daire told me to get off of Google because I was making myself crazy, but I couldn’t help it. You’re my best friend and I worry.”

“Don’t make me cry,” I groan. “I cry at everything right now. I promise you don’t need to worry about me, but it’s sweet that you do. It’s nice to know someone cares about me.”

“I love you, Bertie. You’re not just my best friend. You’re my family.” She yanks me into a hug.

“I love you, too.” I hold her tight, once again grateful that the universe made sure our paths crossed. “Did you really need to pee?” I ask her when she lets me go.

“Yes.” She turns toward a stall. “I drank way too much water before we left and now, I’m paying the price.”

We do our business and wash up before heading back to the suite.

Daire is crouched on the floor playing with Sammy and some of the blocks they must’ve brought with them. Rory is in Jocelyn’s arms snoozing away.

Since the game is starting soon, I grab a chair so I can watch unobstructed. I’m sure for most of the others here this is business as usual, but since this is Luke’s first home game I don’t want to miss a single second. This is a huge deal for him, and even if he doesn’t get any ice time it’s still one of the most important games of his career.

Jocelyn ends up joining me in the seat right next to me with Rory still in her arms.

“How are things with you and Luke?” she asks. “I’m sure it hasn’t been easy for you with a new baby and him gone so much right now. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to come help.”

Since she’s his mom, it would be easy for this question to be pure nosiness, but I think she genuinely wants to know for my well-being. It’s why I like her so much.

“We’re good. I don’t know if he told you, but we … uh … made things official.”

Her eyes crinkle at the corners with her smile. “He did. He’s so happy. You make him happy. I hope you never forget that.” She reaches over and gives my hand a gentle pat. “And how are you doing on your own so much?”