Emma was nervous. She had no idea why she was nervous - she never got nervous before a game. Typically, she tried to keep a cool head so Kyle wouldn't see her nervous. She needed to be the strong one so he could focus on the sport, on his game, and not worry about pleasing her. But tonight, sitting next to her father as she stared out of the recently-washed glass, watching both teams warm up on their respective sides of the ice, she felt her stomach twist into knots beyond her control. 

There was a good chance her nervousness was primarily regarding her new pregnancy rather than this particular game and it was manifesting itself now. She had no idea what to tell Kyle. Hell, she had no idea what to tell her friends and her father. She had no idea what to tell her dance students at the studio she worked at. She had no idea what to tell the dance academies in New York, where she applied to attend so she could live out her dream and dance on Broadway.

She clenched her jaw. She didn't want to think about that. There was no way she'd be able to attend even her last choice. No one was going to accept a pregnant woman. There was no way.

"You okay?"

She nearly jumped at her father's question, even though the stadium was already noisy with mainstream music playing and fans cheering their favorite players. She forced a smile on her face she knew her father would be able to see through so she didn't even bother lying.

"Nervous," she admitted. 

He took her hand, a small, knowing smile on his face. "They've got this," he assured her.

Emma curled her fingers around her father's hand but didn't respond. Instead, she focused her attention on Kyle. He was always so intense before a game, so focused, he never looked for her in the crowd. Which was fine. He knew she was there and that was all that mattered. She completely understood. Hell, she was the same way with dance. But, for some reason, she really would have wanted him to look up from his stretching and give her that crooked smile reserved just for her. Which was selfish.

Tonight was about him, not about her. She shouldn't expect him to reassure her when he was fighting to make history. She could handle this lump of emotions. She had to.

The game started just after the national anthem. Emma leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. It was Negan's line that started - James Negan was a veteran second-line center currently dating Seraphina’s older sister, Katella - and he had Drew Stefano and Viktor Jansson as his wingers.

They were playing their cross-town rivals, the Hollywood Stars. They had already guaranteed themselves the first seed in the Pacific Division so they might not be playing as hard as usual in order to ensure none of their players got injured unnecessarily. However, if Emma knew the Hollywood Stars, and she had a feeling she did, she had a feeling they would go out of their way in order to attempt to ensure the Gulls lost this game to make acquiring even the wildcard seed of the division that more difficult. She expected a gritty game.

"You hungry?" her father asked her, leaning back in the plastic navy blue chair, tilting his head to stare at her profile.

Was it possible to notice pregnancy just by looking at her face?

There was no way, right?

"Um..." She pressed her brows together, unsure. Was she hungry? She hadn't thought about food since she found out she was pregnant, truth be told, and she wasn't sure how she felt about food now.

To be honest, she hadn't experienced any pregnancy symptoms. In fact, the only reason she had taken a pregnancy test in the first place was because her period was four days late and it was never four days late. Even then, she was going over her routines and her diet, making sure she wasn't exercising too much and eating too little. Pregnancy was the last thing on her mind.

Until it was her only explanation.

"Yeah," she finally said, locking eyes with her father. She needed to appear as normal as she could be without raising suspicion. "Yeah, I'll take some chicken fingers."

Emma had always been picky with the quality of her food. She didn't drink soda and rarely indulged in sweets. Her only exception was when she was at a hockey game. When she was here, she allowed herself to indulge in fried foods, sugar, and junk food. Every now and then, she would request a healthier option - fruit, chicken wraps - but her favorite was chicken tenders or unsalted pretzels with tons of nacho cheese on the side.

If she didn't want her father suspecting anything, she needed to act like she normally would, which meant ordering what she normally did.

"And a bottle of water," she said.

"Chocolate?" he asked, standing up and tilting his head to the side.

She grinned. "Kit Kat, please," she said.

He nodded. "Be right back," he said and headed up the steep stairs.

She let out a shaky breath. That wasn't so bad. She could do this. She could totally avoid telling her father about this.

Actually, no she couldn't.

Emma had managed to avoid him thus far. Considering they were at a hockey game, it was the perfect distraction for him not to pick up on how incredibly awkward she felt around him. But he would. Her father was a lawyer after all, and more than that, he knew her well enough to know when she was lying and when she was hiding something. Plus, she couldn't lie to save her life. Hell, if he looked at her straight in the face and asked if she was okay, there was no way in hell she'd even be able to respond.

Because she couldn't lie.

Which meant she needed to figure out how the hell she was going to handle talking to him about this because if she couldn't lie and couldn't hide this from him, she would have to tell him.

But do I tell him before I tell Kyle? she thought to herself. I don't know the proper protocol when it comes to this stuff. I've never been pregnant before.

'There isn't a proper protocol,' a voice that sounded suspiciously like Harper's pointed out. 'This is part of being a parent. You figure it out. And it's hard, yeah. But it'll be okay in the end. It'll all work out.'

Emma scrunched up her nose. Sometimes, Harper's bubbly positivity made her want to pop a balloon. It was easier being on the outside looking in. Nobody knew exactly how she was feeling. Nobody could make the right decision for her except her. Because she was experiencing it.

She just needed to figure out what the best decision was for us.

"Hey," her father said, seemingly coming out of nowhere and taking his seat beside her. He handed her food and water. "You okay? You seem pensive."

Emma nodded, forcing a smile that she knew was too bright into her face. "Just going over steps for the spring recital," she told him.

He nodded, momentarily appeased.

It wasn't long before the lights went down and the announcer introduced the Newport Beach Seagulls. Emma got goosebumps as she typically did at the start of the game. She forgot for a moment that she had this huge elephant on her shoulder, and instead, leaned back in her seat and focused on her boyfriend.

Emma could see him clearly since their seats were just behind the Gulls' bench.

He wasn't typically good looking but he was tall and built, and when he smiled - which was rare, especially on the ice - his entire face lit up and his crystal blue eyes sparkled, which took her breath away. He had blond hair and pale skin - growing up in Regina, Canada, was a cold experience, from what he told her - and a sharp jaw. Regardless of what was deemed typically handsome in this society didn't mean she believed the hype. Each time she looked at Kyle, remembered how dark his eyes would get as they looked at her, how his callused palms felt against her most sensitive skin, she shivered and felt her thighs moisten.

'See, this is how you got yourself into this mess,' a voice pointed out. 'You're crazy about him.'

Emma felt her lips curl up. "So what if I am?" she muttered under her breath. "There's nothing wrong with that." And despite what had happened, her feelings hadn't changed.

Currently, Kyle was stretching across the ice, down on his knees on the ice. The groin muscle was extremely important in hockey and one of the muscles that was easily pulled during a game, especially for the goalies. Kyle was one of the few players who actually stretched on ice on top of skating and shooting during the warm ups. He never wore his helmet, which made no sense to Emma since he could get hurt, even during warm ups, but at least he got to see his face clearly, and at least he did choose to wear a shield.

Shields offered protection against flying pucks and sticks. The NHL was now enforcing that all new players wear a shield despite their preference, though older players did not have to, including Zachary Ryan and Dean Morgan, one of the veteran defensemen that was tough as nails and just an asshole both on and off the ice.

Emma pressed her lips together, taking in the sight of her boyfriend, the conversation she had had with Harper coming back to her. She loved being with Kyle. She loved being intimate him and talking to him and watching Netflix on his time off. During the hockey season, she pulled back because she thought he needed space and he hadn't told her otherwise. Plus, she had dance to focus on.

But maybe, maybe Harper was right. Maybe they needed to take their relationship to a deeper level where they talked about the future and where they expected their relationship to go.

Was that what she wanted?

The more she stared at him, the more she realized that yes, she did want that. More than she realized.