I hold onto Maggie’s hand as we descend the stairs and I watch her face break out into a smile when our friends all yell, “Surprise!”
As twenty people start to hug us simultaneously, I give Maggie’s hand a squeeze. She’s got tears streaming down her face, but they’re happy ones, for sure. Taking in the decorations and the cake and the mountain of presents, I can tell she’s overwhelmed, but grateful. “I can’t believe you threw us a baby shower!”
Iris and Viv happily take partial credit for the idea, but Ollie starts shaking his head. “Hate to break it to you, Mama Bear, but this is not a baby shower. It’s a Dadchelor Party.”
Maggie laughs, but Fallon rolls her eyes and stands toe-to-toe with Ollie Jablonksi. “It’s a baby shower,” she signs.
Ollie signs back “No, it isn’t.” He’s attempting to finger-spell “dadchelor party” when Fallon puts a party hat on his head, snapping the little elastic string against his chin beforewalking away. I’d wager he’s tempted to rip the hat off and settle his differences with Fallon up against the far wall, but I’m not a betting man.
I’m a dad-to-be.
And today is all about Maggie and the Nugget.
Iris has taken Maggie by the hand and is giving her a tour of the cookie table. Those two are surely bonded for life. Since my girl’s happy, I relax on the sofa. Mickey hands me a water bottle and takes the seat across from me.
“I get a gold star, right? I’ve kept this secret for three whole days.”
“That’s three gold stars, dude,” I say, toasting our water bottles.
Van sits next to me and stretches his arm along the back of the sofa. “How’s it going, Norris?”
My smile is genuine. “Pretty damn good. Thanks, man. You guys didn’t need to do this, but it’s awesome. It means a lot.”
He just nods in understanding. “You’re family,” he says plainly. “You and Maggie and…does your kid have a name yet?”
Just as I’m about to say we haven’t picked one yet, Mickey pipes up.
“Mickayla,” he says without any trace of irony.
Van blinks. “Oh, wow, that’s?—”
“Not my baby’s name,” I interject.
“Dude, seriously?” Mickey asks. “Oh, you think it’s a boy, don’t you? It’s not, though. It’s a girl. No worries. Mickayla it is.”
I shake my head. “Mickayla it isn’t. I love you, man, but no. Just, no.”
“If you’re worried about Ollie, don’t be. He knows I’m your favorite.”
I shake my head again, but it’s no use because Ollie joins us. “Did I hear my name?” he asks.
A loud cheer erupts from across the room, saving me from answering. I look over to see Will pumping his fist while eating something out of a diaper. He looks happy as hell to have won whatever game they’re playing. “Three’s not enough money in the world to make me eat food out of a diaper,” I say. “Even if it is a clean one.”
Mickey just shrugs and I don’t even want to know.
“You’ll be making big money soon, right?” Ollie asks.
I look around to see who the hell he’s talking to, and then I realize it’s me. “Uh, yeah? I mean, full-time at the landscaping company will pay better, so I guess? But I definitely won’t be rolling in it.”
“Landscaping? The fuck are you talking about, Norris? You’re the hottest goalie in college hockey right now. Poor Kersey’s probably still crying over that loss from yesterday. You’re a fucking brick wall. Nobody’s better than you.”
“Thanks,” I say, though I never know how to respond to compliments. I’d rather go out and do my job than talk about it.
“I’m serious. There’s no way Portland’s not calling you up at the end of the season. Hell, Boston took Forsyth last year right after the Frozen Four. They might not even want you to finish the year here.”
Ollie’s words sink in. My agent hasn’t said anything, and I’m sure I’d hear something if they were ready for me, right?
“You didn’t watch NetNews last night? Tierney’s out with a concussion. Moriarty slammed into him, and he took a knee to the head. It was nasty,” Ollie says, taking a sip of his drink. “They’re probably gonna call up Hughes from the minors, but their pool isn’t that deep. I’m calling it now. They’re coming for you sooner rather than later.”
