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He's the only bright spot in this mess. If my heart doesn't explode from playoff nerves, it will with love for him. Telling Ryan the truth has made us feel right again. The pressure, guilt, and failure I feel from being unable to have children is evaporating. Ryan loves me for me, and that's all that matters. Now, I just need to get over feeling like a complete dumbass for not talking to him about this sooner. We wasted seven years because I was too chicken-shit to talk to him about my insecurities and perceived failings.
Over the last few days, we've had plenty of free time for talking between planes, buses, and hotels. I've explained what endometriosis is and how the scar tissue impedes an egg from passing safely through my fallopian tubes. It may be unlikely that I have viable, healthy eggs at this point. I explained all the ugly details to Ryan, and the only thing he did was smile and say, "So it's not impossible. It's just improbable."
"No, not impossible," I said while we were in the hotel bed, curled into one another. I am the perfect little spoon to Ryan's big, muscular spoon. "But Ryan, please don't get your hopes up. I don't want to disappoint you."
"Never," he hummed into my ear. “But I don't make all this money for nothing, Em. If we decide we want to try, I can pay for treatment, or adoption. We have options and time to figure it out."
Every time Ryan and I talk my heart wars with itself, trying to decide whether to burst or break. He is such an amazing man and I can't help but wonder what he's doing with me, but then I remind myself how awesome I am—minus my minor fertility flaw—and forget about it.
The team has a rare extra day off between games today. Teams usually play against each other religiously, every other day during playoffs. One day on, one day off, until the series is won. The only time teams get a break is if they eliminate the opposition in four, five, or six games and have to wait for another series to wrap up.
After sweeping the New York Atlantics, the Carolina Storm are awaiting the winners of our series. Ollie and Ozzy did summersaults when their New York rivals were eliminated. But I reminded them their team didn't even make the playoffs, effectively silencing them. Now that their season is over, my brothers want to come home to Toronto as soon as possible. I might have glossed over the severity of the Randy situation from them, but they know there's more than I am letting on.
Thankfully, their agent is forcing them to stay in New York while the Diamonds try to table an offer to keep them in their organization before Free Agency on July first. I asked them what they want to do, but they're unsure. Ollie and Ozzy are a premiere defence pair. They could probably fetch a hefty price if they split up and went to different teams, but they're a package deal. The price teams can pay for them as a pair is lower because of the salary cap. So, the twins need to take less money to stay together.
Rubbing my temples and glancing down at my watch, I finish sending emails out to our sponsors. Team availability during the playoffs is slim, but the Northmen still have charity obligations they need to fulfill, including a three-hour telethon tonight. We already had to reschedule it once because of the playoff schedule, and tonight is the only night we could do it without waiting until summer. It's Toronto's big initiative to support mental health awareness. This year's theme is a retro-throwback style telethon where people can call in and speak to a celebrity before making a donation. The only difference is it won't be on live television. It's being live-streamed on the team's socials. It's a great way to remind people of the help-lines and resources available to them if they suffer from mental illness.
One in two people don't get the treatment they need because of the stigma around asking for help when dealing with a mental health issue. Most people don't have any problem going to the doctor if they're physically sick, but if they suffer from anxiety or depression, they stay silent.
Schedule-wise, one of the good things about the Toronto Talks Telethon is that only about six players need to participate. It's minimally invasive. The players and celebrities answering phones are only on set for about four hours, so it won't mess with the training schedule too much. And, of course, it's all for a good cause. All the money raised this afternoon goes directly to mental health awareness and supporting people coping with mental illness.
I look at the brochure Holly placed on my desk before going to grab us coffee. The roster of athletes includes Luke Valentine, Ryan Gunner, Chase Wilder, Hunter LaRoux, Coach John McCall, and Tyler Zingle. Actors and musicians include Tyra Price, Nicole Bloom, Tyson Barnes, and Ricardo Martinez.
Holly and I will also be answering phones and directing calls, along with several other volunteers, and Taylor will be working behind the scenes.
My eyes drift over to Colton across the office. Over the last week, he's become my shadow. The only time he's not on the clock is when he goes home after midnight and another bodyguard takes over for a few hours while he goes home to eat, sleep, and shower. By six-thirty in the morning, he's back at my condo, waiting.
Randy has been eerily silent since the video was leaked. It makes me wonder if he is trying to lull me into a false sense of security. A large part of me hopes he's gotten bored with me or taken off to some obscure country to escape the shit storms he's created.
It’s the not knowing that makes me crazy.
A few hours later, we're in the studio. Local radio personalities, Roc and Coco, are hosting, and everyone answering phones are seated in tiered rows. Three cameras are set up around the room as well as a boom mic. The dress code for tonight is semi-casual, except for the players wearing their Northmen jerseys, so they are easily identifiable. Holly is wearing a Valentine jersey, and I am wearing one with Gunner and the number seventeen stitched on the back.
"So, what do you think, guys?" Chase strolls up to Luke, Holly, Ryan, and me. He's all cool composure and cocky pride, wearing a dinner jacket made from one of his Northmen's jerseys.
Chase does a spin for us, showing off his threads. He's definitely going to be a favourite for the women calling in. Chase is one of those men blessed with charm and good looks, with jet-black hair, green eyes, and a panty-melting smile complete with dimples.
It's no wonder why Lily is half in love with him.
"You're an ass," Luke rolls his eyes.
"What? I think I look good."
"You look like an ass," Luke repeats, chuckling.
Chase turns to Holly and me and asks our opinions. At the risk of inflating his ego any more than it already is, we give him an impassive shrug.
"Wilder! Dude, nice outfit! You look like Don Cherry," Tyler Zingle jokes, joining our group.
"There you go, Chase. You look like an octogenarian who wears ridiculous suits and has no filter," Ryan slaps him on the back.
Deflated, Chase takes his seat next to the phone assigned to him.
The camera crew shuffles everyone into their places, and I walk to my seat next to Ryan. He gives my hand a squeeze before kissing me on the cheek.
"Should I put on my phone sex voice," I ask him in a husky voice, leaning into him. He pulls back, eyes darkening. He's turned on. "Oops, maybe I should have saved the sexy banter for after the three-hour charity event."
"Or maybe, you should have thought twice before starting something you can't finish," he replies, placing his hand on my hip. Right before I sit down, Ryan slaps my ass. Hard. I yelp, he laughs, and when I take my seat, I shift awkwardly, pretending not to notice how damp my underwear is. God, he gets me so hot.
