Jackie

“Look! A giant marshmallow! I’m gonna eat you. Chomp, chomp,” Charlotte threatened and then dissolved into giggles. She was giddy with happiness to see her dad “at work.”

Hannah and I both joined in the laughter, but Hannah added, “It’s actually an ice cube: V-Ice is his name.”

The team’s mascot did look more like a marshmallow though. As the fluffy cube made his way around the ice, all the kids around us cheered. He was completely bizarre and very popular. I found the skinny white legs sticking out of the big cube the funniest part.

“Look, there’s Papa,” Charlotte called out. Leo was on the bench now as the team assembled and got ready for the national anthem. He was wearing a light grey suit, white checked shirt, and lavender tie, and he looked gorgeous. Not that he needed a suit to look handsome to me, a towel would do. Or nothing at all.

“I chose his tie,” Charlotte told me.

“Good job.” I squeezed her hand, and she smiled up at me. Leo had very sneakily not told Charlotte about our break-up. He claimed he was waiting to do it in person, but perhaps he’d always believed we’d get back together.

That was a blessing since Charlotte was too used to people coming and going from her life. I never wanted to break the trust she had in me. I’d missed Leo so much, but Charlotte had been a close second. And for a time it seemed like she might not even move here. Sophie and Wes were horrified by the housing prices in Vancouver and ready to flee back to San Diego. But I found them listings for floating homes and permanent marina slips for large boats. Both were reasonably priced alternatives that Wes loved. Now Charlotte lived on a boat near Granville Island and walked along a pretty footpath to get to school. She loved her new life here.

“Oh, look, there’s Tristan.” Hannah lifted her phone and began filming. Tristan skated out along with the starting line-up. His whole team was here at the game, and he and the team captain were out on the ice for the national anthem. Leo had arranged it of course, and Tristan had alternated between excitement and stomach-churning nervousness the past week. “What if I mess up?” he kept asking. I had reassured him, but we were both looking forward to this honour being over. Afterwards, he’d be able to relax and sit among his rowdy teammates, who were cheering one section away.

The anthem went off fine, without Tristan falling on the ice or whatever else he had been worried about. But Hannah kept her phone out and began taking photos of a certain young Swedish forward.

“That Seb Söderlund is so good,” she sighed. He was a first round draft pick of the Millionaires, but at nineteen, he still didn’t have the size for the NHL. Leo had a year to get him ready, and he was one of the most exciting players on the Vice.

Charlotte nodded. “He’s my favourite player too.” She still treated Hannah like all the Kardashians rolled into one person. Even though—as Hannah and I had discussed—Charlotte was more chic than both of us. Tonight she was wearing black leggings, faux shearling boots, and a wool headband with a long blonde ponytail. Topping off her outfit was a tiny fitted jersey with the name Gauthier on the back. Should I be wearing Leo’s jersey too? Maybe it was a high school throwback, but part of me was tickled at the idea.

Being the coach’s girlfriend turned out to have responsibilities of its own. The team’s “wives and girlfriends” helped out with charity fundraising. Amanda was constantly looking for ways to promote the family image of the team. I had a standing invitation to watch the game in the corporate suite with her. And we were almost done with the furnishing of her new condo. Amanda was turning into a real friend since we double-dated with her and Chris frequently.

I loved going to Vice games. They had family nights like tonight with an early start time and kids activities between periods. Amanda’s family marketing was a big success. But Leo and Chris insisted that the bigger crowds were due to the fact they were playing an up-tempo style and winning more often.

Tonight’s game was a very exciting one. In the first period, Toronto jumped out to a lead, then the Vice tied it up. In the second period, they kept trading scoring chances, but then Toronto scored on a power play. Clearly Leo was upset about that goal because he was absolutely livid on the bench, waving his arms around and yelling.

At the first game I attended, I was shocked at how emotional and expressive Leo was during games. He yelled, cursed, and acted very dramatic. There was no doubt that his calm exterior was only a cover for the passionate man underneath. It was something I should have known already.

I peeked at Charlotte to see her reaction, and her eyes were wide.

“Why is Papa so mad?”

Hannah answered, “He thinks it was goaltender interference, but he’s already used his time-out and can’t challenge it. So he’s yelling at the ref.”

“Oh,” Charlotte answered. I wasn’t sure if she understood or not. I was amazed at how Hannah had become a hockey expert in such a short time. “Will he be mad after the game too?”

“No, he’ll be fine,” I assured her. That was another discovery: once the game had ended, Leo was completely calm again. Win or lose.

“Don’t worry, we’ll come back. The Vice are a great third period team,” Hannah said. “Leo will do something between periods.”

That was true. Leo made mysterious adjustments that allowed the Vice to hold leads or come from behind to win games. Sometimes he would explain exactly what had happened and why, but I seldom understood the technical parts. It didn’t matter to me anyway, since I preferred to cheer for the individual players. Learning their personal histories was fascinating.

Seb Söderlund, Hannah’s favourite, was a cross between a teen idol and a hockey savant. He was a sleek Viking ship, sailing in from nowhere to create a beautiful play. I wasn’t sure if she liked his hockey skills or his long blond hair, but I was happy that she had found someone safe and unattainable for her first crush.

I liked the captain, Paul Thiebault, who had once played in the NHL and suffered a serious career-threatening injury. He had fought hard to rehabilitate himself and returned to new success in the AHL. I wasn’t sure if I preferred his second chance career or that he was a handsome French-Canadian. I definitely had a fondness for Quebeckers these days.

Tristan’s favourite player was Dave Dominick, a bruising defenceman. When he delivered a crushing open-ice hit, Tristan’s whole team had crooned, “Doooommmmm!” along with much of the arena. But he had his own off-ice story. Amanda told me he had battled alcohol issues and now led sobriety programs back in his First Nations community. So many players on the Vice had their own heroic tales, which made me proud to cheer for them.

During the third period, character really came into play. Despite being called for two more questionable penalties, the Vice managed to fight back and tie the game, and then they’d scored a goal with only three seconds left on the clock. The crowd went absolutely crazy, and the girls and I hugged each other in sheer glee. Hockey was the most exciting sport.

Afterwards, I wondered if I should wait for Leo or just take the kids home. Lately, he’d been taking longer and longer to finish up. Apparently, the Vice were actually getting media coverage this season, so Leo had to do interviews along with all his mysterious paperwork.

“I think we better go home,” I told the kids. “We have to drop Charlotte off, and Leo has a lot of work to do after the game.”

“No, no,” Charlotte said. “I texted him, and he said he’d be right out.” She held up her phone.

Sure enough, Leo appeared from around the corner. He strode towards us with a huge smile and the hyper-look that he got after a big win. It was adorable and meant he was really happy. Charlotte jumped on him, and he held her on his hip.

“You’re so early,” I said. “Don’t you have interviews and stuff?”

“I delegated. Walshy’s doing the talking tonight. Give the media something new to write about. Besides, if I wasn’t here early enough, we couldn’t go out for dessert.”

“What? We’re going for dessert?” Tristan’s eyes lit up. I had noticed him consuming junk food the whole time he was here. He’d been too nervous to eat dinner.

“That’s how we celebrate a big win,” Leo replied. “You did well out there.”

“Yeah. I wasn’t nervous at all,” Tristan bragged.

“Okay, let’s go.” He put Charlotte down and put an arm around me.

“I still can’t believe you’re here this early,” I said to him.

“How could I not be early when all my favourite people are waiting for me?”

I smiled. But it was true. Leo was never going to change his workaholic ways, but when he was away from the rink, he gave us his complete attention.

“Someone has his priorities on straight.”

“Definitely.” He leaned over and kissed me. Not just a polite kiss, but a firm, wet kiss that made my insides marshmallow mushy.

Tristan groaned. “Mooooom, Leoooo, noooo.”

“It’s okay,” said Charlotte. “They love each other. Just like Minx and Mao.”

We all laughed at this remark, and Charlotte beamed. “Do you think we could have a cat wedding? Then they could have kittens.”

Leo and I exchanged an amused look. “Do you want to take this one?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Let’s let Hannah explain what ‘fixed’ means.”

The kids walked ahead of us. Hannah was talking and making hand motions. Charlotte was smiling and nodding, then her expression turned to one of utter horror.

Leo and I burst out laughing.

A gigantic player named Marty Devonshire jerked his head around at the sound. When he saw Leo laughing, he did a double take at his happy coach. Leo was stern and all-business at work, but he was a completely different person after hours. The sweet openness and affection he’d always shown to Charlotte was now extended to all of us.

I hugged him hard. Leo smiled at me. “What’s up?”

“Just thinking about how happy I am with you,” I confessed.

“Yeah, me too. We’re proof that you can have your cake and your pie too.”

I giggled and kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t ever change, Leo.”