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It was all fun and games until they realized this wasn’t just a lark or a marriage-on-paper-only sort of situation. Eventually I’d be moving out. We won’t be living here together for senior year. Since then, they’ve been a bit subdued.
When I pass Hannah the water bottle, I notice her eyes drop to the silver band on the ring finger of my left hand. Gigi and I grabbed the rings this morning from a small jewelry shop on Main Street. It still startles me every time I look down and see it there.
I don’t even remember which one of us suggested we tie the knot. I think it might have been me? I just remember walking hand in hand down the Strip that first night in Vegas and thinking there’s nobody else I want to hold hands with for the rest of my life. And for some inexplicable reason, Gigi agreed.
“Married,” her mom says with an amused look.
“Married,” I confirm.
It’s pretty funny when you think about it. We haven’t even been together a year.
“I know you think we’re crazy,” I say, shrugging.
“Actually, no. I don’t. I know my daughter. She doesn’t enter into things lightly. And I think I’m starting to know you too. You’re not impulsive.”
“No,” I agree.
I’m the opposite, in fact. Calculated. Perpetually skeptical of people who jump first and think later.
“Look,” I say roughly, after a short silence falls, “you don’t have to pretend you’re on board with this or that you even support it. I give you permission to react like your husband. Go full silent treatment on us.”
“Hey, he’s trying.”
She’s not wrong—for the past three days, Garrett has texted, called, and left multiple voicemails for Gigi, asking to talk. But his daughter is stubborn. She’s the one refusing to accept the olive branch.
“He hurt her,” I say quietly.
“I know. He regrets it. You two just caught him by surprise. Garrett doesn’t like surprises. And no, I’m not secretly upset.”
“Really?”
She reaches across the table and takes both my hands in hers. “I know you lost your mother at a young age,” she starts.
I shift in my chair, discomfort tensing my shoulders because I don’t know how much Gigi told her parents about my background. I didn’t ask her to keep it a secret, what my dad did, but the idea of her parents knowing is still unsettling.
“It’s not an easy thing growing up without a mother.”
I shrug. “I had foster moms.”
She searches my face. “Were they good to you?”
I give an abrupt shake of the head. My throat tightens.
“That’s what I figured.” She squeezes my hands. “And that’s why I came over. I wanted you to know that I’m here for you. I mean it, Luke. I have no doubt you’ll be in our lives for a long time to come, and I’m not at all bothered by that.”
A thought tickles the back of mind. About my own mother. If she were alive and I brought home some girl I married, I wonder how she would react. If she’d be wise enough to recognize that Gigi actually isn’t “some girl” but my entire life.
But I’ll never know. And that bleak notion scrapes at something inside me. I blink. Blink again. The moisture in my eyes doesn’t dissipate. It just wells up, distorting my vision.
“Hey,” Hannah says gently. “It’s okay.”
I twist my head to avoid her gaze. I feel raw and exposed.
So she gets out of her chair and crouches in front of mine. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought up your mother.”
“No, it’s okay.” My voice breaks. I drag my forearm across my face, wiping my eyes with my sleeve.
Before I can stop her, Gigi’s mom pulls me in for a tight hug and now I’m crying in her arms like a little kid.
This is so fucking embarrassing.
She reaches up and smooths a lock of hair away from my forehead, unfazed by my tears. “All I was trying to say is, you’re family now. I know I’m not your real mom, but I think I did pretty well with my own kids.”
“You did,” I say thickly.
“So if you ever need anything, I’m a call or text away. I’ll always be here for you.”
I suddenly hear the front door opening. Shane and Beckett’s voices. I quickly scrub my eyes, while Hannah gets up and sits back in her seat. She takes a sip of her water, then sets the bottle down and sighs.
“So. Now how are we going to solve the father-daughter problem?”
That is easier said than done. A week passes and Gigi still refuses to speak to her father. Garrett’s gotten so desperate he even called me and asked me to intervene on his behalf. I said I’d try. Because one, he’s my idol. And two, he’s now my father-in-law.
But…she’s my wife.
Wife.
It still feels surreal to say that. My whole life, nothing has ever felt entirely right aside from hockey. When I’m out there on the ice, chasing a puck, slapping a shot at net, that’s when I’ve always felt most like myself. A sense of belonging, like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
