I wasn’t pregnant. I was sure ofit.
Pregnancy tests weren’t a hundred percent accurate. They were ninety-nine percent accurate. It said so on the box. Which meant one out of a hundred times they wereincorrect.
And this test was that magical one—the test that got the answerwrong.
Right?
2
Josh
Two monthsearlier
Quiz time.What makes an NHL hockey player both excited and fearful at the same time? That’s right. The final minutes of game seven during the Stanley Cup playoffs. More so when the two teams are tied and the game could go eitherway.
Too bad for the Rock—it hadn’t gone ourway.
Anaheim was advancing to thefinals.
And we were now on an earlyvacation.
But first…we had to pull up our extra large, big-girl panties and congratulate the otherteam.
Like little boys who lost their favorite toy truck, we skated in a single line and congratulated each member of their team, including the support staff. Some of the congratulations were spoken half-heartedly; I didn’t know those guys and they didn’t knowme.
I gave Sutter, my former teammate, a one-armed hug. Until he was traded a few years ago, he used to play for the Rock. “Congratulations. You deserve this, man.” Sutter had been my mentor the first year I played for the team. He was the guy who kept me from becoming a much bigger cocky ass than I was now. Now I was one-eighth cocky ass—maybe a little more during a fullmoon.
Although compared to Grant—the pain-in-the-ass Ducks defenseman—I was fucking SnowWhite.
No, I didn’t mean literally fucking her, not that I would complain if I did get to. But if we were talking about getting to fuck a Disney princess, it would totally be that red-haired mermaid—what was hername?
“Now I have to hope Jenny doesn’t go into labor until after the playoffs,” Suttersaid.
I stared at him for a heartbeat, letting his words sink in. “I didn’t realize you guys wereexpecting.”
His face beamed with pride. You would’ve thought his team had won the Stanley Cup instead of the Campbell Bowl. Not that the Campbell Bowl was anything to sneezeat.
But we weren’t talking about the much-coveted trophy here. We were talking about a small human who did nothing but shit, cry, and generally take over yourlife.
I shuddered at the thought. There weren’t any babies in my future. I’d learned the hard way that the NHL and kids weren’t a goodmix.
Just ask my oldman.
If you could findhim.
Sutter and I didn’t get a chance to talk further. The guys behind us were waiting for us to get moving. The Ducks were eager to get their trophy and we were eager toleave.
Once we were finished with the congratulations, we returned to the lockerroom.
“Are you heading out tonight?” Mark asked Travis and me. You couldn’t miss the wistful expression that passed briefly on his face. Even his scraggly playoff beard couldn’t hideit.
“I’m meeting up with some friends,” I told him, knowing that the only thing he was doing tonight was diaperduty.
“You’re still joining me and the guys later at The Unicorn, right?” Travis askedme.
“I will if I can,” I replied, spying Coach Woodcroft heading our way with the look he always wore whenever he had to deliver bad news…the type of bad news involving a mediarequest.
“Hoffer,” he said, “they’re asking foryou.”
