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PROLOGUE
Lily – Present Day
Dragging my pointer finger up the brushed steel handrail of the staircase, I pull it away and rub my fingertips together, letting out an amused chuckle as it confirms what I already know; our home is immaculate.
There isn’t a speck of dust to be seen, nor a piece of furniture out of place in the fixer-upper house Ash and I renovated ten years ago and is now the place we call home.
Although it doesn’t feel like home.
During hockey season, Ash is rarely ever home for longer than a few days at a time, so for seven months of the year I spend a lot of time by myself.
Alone.
Having a demanding job as head coach of the Edmonton Eagles, Ash spends a lot of his time at work, talking about work or locked in his office at work and at home watching game tapes, reviewing player technique and positioning. Slowing down videos, analyzing every minute detail, his dedication to the game is what makes him one of the best coaches in the NHL.
Coaching the team he loves has become more than a full-time job, though; much like mine, his job consumes him. While Ash throws himself into the hockey team, I’ve directed all my energy into growing my business, Tiger Lily Events.
The hard work has paid off and my business has grown exponentially, employing over fifty people who support me to manage, market, plan, and execute creative and memorable events. I love nothing better than watching a vision come to life. We go above and beyond to create unique experiences for our customers at Tiger Lily and I can’t imagine myself doing anything else. However, the happiness my job brings me isn’t enough to fill the huge Ash-shaped hole in my life.
Reaching the top of the glass stairs, I’m acutely aware of how much colder my feet have become. It’s as if the cool glass against my soles is preparing me for getting into an equally cold bed. By myself.
Ash’s flight should have already landed and I’m expecting him home soon, although he hasn’t called yet.
One foot in front of the other, my feet slap gently against the white marble hallway tiles that look like smooth cake fondant. Giant patches of moonlight fall through the skylight windows, making the night shadows dance across the floor.
I stop for a moment and peer over the top of the glass balcony to admire my palatial surroundings. I can’t deny how beautiful our house is. Long gone are the days I spent living in my cramped one-bedroom apartment, working two jobs where I used to walk or use the light rail transit to travel, because I couldn’t afford a car.
Between us, Ash and I now have six cars, a housekeeper, people to mow the lawn, and a pool boy. I even have someone who color coordinates our closets, making it easier for us to pull outfits together, and get meal plans and fresh food delivered weekly to ensure we eat healthy.
I scoff at how ridiculous my life has become.
Knowing I’ve frozen more meals for Ash than he’s eaten of late, confusion causes my brow to dip as I try to recall the last time we sat down to eat an evening meal together. Struggling to remember, I come up short.
I’m sure my girlfriends don’t have time to think about how many days and nights their hockey husbands spend away from home, or ever get lonely because they all have families. Ash and I are the only couple who never had children. Because, despite how hard we tried or how much help we had, we couldn’t.
Having a family was something we always dreamed about when we were younger, yet we no longer even bring it up anymore.
I would have loved to have a child. Just one happy, bouncing baby. A part of me and a part of Ash. That’s all I ever wanted.
I still do.
A little more happiness dies inside of me because it’s something I have been giving a lot of thought to lately. At thirty-eight, I’m certain my ovaries have already given up their dream of fulfilling their purpose; to create life.
I know I have.
After years of trying to conceive naturally and three failed rounds of IVF, we called it a day, promising to revisit it again when things were less stressful. As time passed, Ash moved from playing hockey to coaching and the pain of all those failed attempts meant it was something we discussed less and less. The truth is, it was rough on my body; the injections, hormones, the disappointment of seeing the single line on the pregnancy test every month—they were all emotionally taxing, and I felt completely isolated from my friends, who all conceived with ease.
With no one to speak to, or who understood the sadness and loss I felt of a future I always dreamed about, I struggled with episodes of fear and anxiety. Instead of talking to a therapist, I chose to throw myself into my career, as did Ash. We turned away from each other and did everything we could to hide our pain.
A lump the size of a melon forms in my throat and lingers for a minute too long, knowing that it may be too late to consider raising a family of our own. Ignoring my anguish, I move in the direction of the master bedroom and I can’t help but reflect on how different things used to be.
When we first started dating, and in the first few years of our marriage, Ash and I were inseparable, sharing everything. We never wanted to be separated but when we were, the love, understanding, loyalty, and respect we had for one another was deeper than the ocean because we both allowed one another to chase our own goals, never sacrificing each other’s dreams of becoming successful.
After retiring from playing professional hockey, Ash became the assistant coach for the Eagles four years ago. One year later, he was promoted to head coach. We were both so excited about his new position, but we knew coaching would mean even more time and effort than playing had involved. Conversations about starting a family fell to the wayside, replaced with everything that came from being head coach. Even though we both knew what to expect, it was a lot and his workload has only grown with the team's success… with his success as a coach.
I’m annoyed at myself for allowing things to change so drastically between us; no longer living, but existing.
All I seem to do is work. All Ash appears to do is work harder than when he was a player. It’s not just training and time on the ice; team selection, training plans, video analysis, media interviews; the list goes on and on. And don’t get me started on how many calls he receives from the players daily. Some days, I swear he’s more like their father than their coach.
