Season’s Schemings: A Holiday Hockey Rom Com

The night of the Christmas Elf toy drive, Maddie and I drive home together and watch—you guessed it—Elf.

The couple of nights after, we watch more sappy Christmas Hallmark movies, and the night after that, it’s The Holiday. Maddie is clearly a huge romantic at heart, and I find myself hoping that, when this is over between us, she has that perfect “movie” romance with someone. That she falls in love, and has a fairytale wedding when she gets married for real.

She’s a great girl, and she deserves her dream love story.

But for now, while still in her temporary situation with me, watching movies together has become our unspoken little routine. Neither of us acknowledges that we’re no longer ships in the night, heading straight to our separate bedrooms when we get home. We just… adapt. And I’m a fan of it, I gotta say. It’s nice to come home to someone, especially someone who’s good company and always has healthy baked goods hanging around. Someone who sits closer and closer to me on the sofa each night, so much so that we’re practically cuddling at this point.

The Hallmark movies aren’t even that bad. In fact, I’ve enjoyed them so far—not that I’d ever admit that to any of my teammates. Dallas would never let me hear the end of it.

Before I know it, it’s our last night in Atlanta before the holidays. In the morning, we’ll fly to Denver, then drive to the cabin in Aspen. Tonight is also the Cyclones’ last game before the NHL break for Christmas. Unfortunately, it’s a loss to the Philadelphia Phantoms, finishing at 2-1. But somehow, the blow of losing is softened by Maddie in the box reserved for friends and family, wearing my jersey—coupled with a white ribbon in her ponytail. She jumps up and down and screams when I score our team’s only goal at the beginning of the third.

When I get out of the locker room afterwards, she’s not waiting for me in the corridor this time. And I’m surprised at the twinge of disappointment I feel that nobody’s there to greet me. Guess I better get used to it. It’s not like my marriage to Maddie is meant to be a forever thing.

The sting lifts a little when I walk through the front door of my apartment… and find a total winter wonderland.

I stand in the entryway for a second, wondering if I’ve got the wrong place. But no, this is where I live—in an unbridled explosion of holiday cheer, apparently.

The riot of colors and chaos defy all the usual rules of festive decor. Tinsel hangs in unruly clumps from the ceiling, twisting and tangling together in a metallic cascade of gold and silver. Multicolored lights blink erratically from the tree in the corner, which is decked out with ornaments of all shapes and sizes, from shiny baubles and stars to… are those hockey figurines?

There’s a collection of penguin-shaped cookie jars on the kitchen island, arranged in a semi-circle like they’re caroling. Garlands—apparently not having enough space on the walls—have made their way to the furniture, wrapping around chairs and sofas like festive boa constrictors. An inflatable snowman with a missing arm sits at the kitchen table like he’s waiting for his next meal.

And speaking of meals, the smells coming from the kitchen are mouthwatering. Sugar and spice and all things nice.

“What the…”

I don’t get to finish the sentence because a red-cheeked Maddie is suddenly skidding into the living area in reindeer-socked feet. “Hi!”

She’s changed out of my jersey, and into leggings and a ridiculous Christmas sweater that says “Happy Birthday, Jesus!” on the front. Complete with a picture of a festive Jesus in a party-hat, his arm around a Santa Claus sporting sunglasses.

“Sorry I wasn’t there after your game, but I had to run home to finish this,” she continues in a burst. “Do you like it? Are you surprised?”

“I’m…”

I’m remembering our conversation the other evening as we were watching one of the Hallmark movies. She told me that my—our—apartment looked shockingly unfestive and asked where my Christmas decorations were. I told her that I didn’t have any, and the look on her face could only be described as sheer horror. She questioned me about last Christmas, and I ended up confessing that I spent it working out, watching game tape, eating chicken and steamed veggies, and getting ready for the Cyclones’ first game after the break. Alone, in my decoration-less apartment.

“Oh, no!” Maddie’s face falls as I stand on the spot like a freaking lemon, my words caught in my throat. “You hate it, don’t you? I’ll take it all down. It was an overstep and I’m—”

“No.” I cut her off as I catch her arm. “I don’t hate it at all, I’m just… very surprised. You did this for me?”

She looks down, those luminous eyes falling on the spot where my fingertips are gently pressing into her arm, soaking up the warmth of her skin through her sweater. She then peeks up to meet my gaze, carefully taking me in before she eventually says, “I did it for us both.” She wrinkles her little button nose. “Your story about your solo, veggie-eating Christmas day last year was the saddest thing I ever heard. Tonight’s our last night before we go to my family’s Christmas of Horrors, and so I wanted us to have a nice Christmas to remember, too.”

I’m touched beyond words. So I settle for a simple, “Thank you, Maddie.”

She perks up. “Well, come on, then. I’ve baked a bunch of treats that are tailored for your macros… ish.” She gives me a little bashful smile. “Figured there was some leeway for the holidays. And I even have Home Alone ready to play.”

The thought she’s put into this is above and beyond. Like someone who really, truly knows me and cares about me.

And that’s without her even knowing how much this cheerful, festive scene reminds me of the gaudy and bright Christmases of my childhood, growing up in Canada. The whole thing makes me miss my family, but at the same time, makes me glad that I have Maddie with me for Christmas this year. I make a mental note to check in with my family soon to see if the gifts I sent up there have arrived. I haven’t gotten Maddie a gift yet, but I know for a fact that I want to get her something as thoughtful and meaningful as what she’s just given me.

“I should get married more often,” I say playfully, reverting to humor to attempt to soothe the painful thumping coming from that pesky organ in my chest.

She pokes her tongue out at me. “No other wife would be able to plan something this amazing.”

“No,” I agree softly. “She wouldn’t.”

Maddie holds my gaze for a long, heated moment, before throwing a ball of green fabric at me. “Here. Suit up.”

I sputter a laugh as I unfurl a sweater with the words “Get Lit!” splashed across the front. There’s a huge Christmas tree, complete with actual flashing lights, underneath.

Maddie grins wickedly. “In commemoration of our very lit wedding.”

“You are too much.”

But she’s not. She’s exactly the right amount of… everything.

I pull the sweater over my head, and then we curl up on the couch under a huge blanket with bulldogs wearing hats and scarves (seriously, where did she get this stuff?). Press play on the movie as we dig into an assortment of cookies, each better than the last. We wash them down with peppermint hot chocolate, which we cheers like it’s champagne… but better.

As the movie gets underway, her feet find their way into my lap, and I rest my hands on them. Before long, my thumbs are gently massaging her arches, which makes her groan with happiness.

I don’t remember the last time I felt this relaxed. This content. My mind is at rest, rather than spinning through a million different goals and achievements I’m working towards… all hockey-related.

And yet, Maddie seems to be growing more and more tense by the moment. I can see it in the corner of my eye, can feel it radiating off her—her knuckles are whitening on her lap, her feet are suddenly stiff.

I reach for the remote. Hit pause.

She looks at me, her face a question mark.

“I want to check in,” I tell her. “Are you feeling okay about tomorrow? You can talk to me if you need to get anything off your chest.”

I mean it, too. Maddie is the first person outside of my teammates here in Atlanta that I’ve actually grown to care for, and I want her to know I’m here for her through the holidays.

She blinks a few times, twisting the ring I gave her—the ring which really does suit her—around her finger. “I’m… scared,” she admits. “Scared to see Adam again. Scared of how I’m going to react, of what the family is going to think of me. I’ve been going to this cabin for Christmas as an unofficial part of the Plumlee family for years, and last December, I remember thinking—this is it. He’s going to propose this year. Next Christmas, I’ll be back as an official Plumlee to-be. I’ll be talking wedding venues and dresses and honeymoon plans.”

She sniffs and wipes her nose with her sleeve before she continues, “Believe me, I’m not sad that it didn’t end up happening that way. Adam showed his true colors and I know I dodged a bullet. But it seems like… there’s so much history there, and somehow, in the space of just a few months, someone else moved into the place I’d been holding for over a decade.”

Maddie’s fist is clenched into a ball on her lap. I reach over and take her hand, releasing the tension a little.

“I’m angry that Elizabeth is where I thought I’d be this year, and I’m…” She glances at me, and then looks down at her lap again. “Temporarily married to someone else to spite them all. And, I guess I’m also scared that they’re going to see right through it, and I’m going to be an even bigger laughingstock.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. I have no idea how to help her with everything she’s lost. She was with Adam for a long, long time, and nothing is going to change the past and erase that history. It hurts, I get it. And I don’t want to downplay the legitimacy of that for her.

But what I can do is help her feel a little less achy for a while. Show up for her in a way that Adam obviously didn’t. Not gonna lie, the guy sounds like a total prick.

I touch my thumb to her chin to tilt her face towards me. “One: you are not, and have never been, a laughingstock. Two: you’re totally justified in everything you’re feeling right now. And three: I wish I could somehow make the pain of what Adam did to you go away. I’m sorry I can’t. But I can promise that, when we arrive at his cabin tomorrow, you’ve got an ally in me. A teammate. I want to be there for you. Okay?”

“Okay.” She lets out a long breath. “You ready to act like a married man, Slater?”

“All over it, Wifey.” I smirk, and she swats my arm. “But seriously, yes I am. I’ve got your back, like you’ve had mine. I’ll do whatever it takes to get you through the holidays as unscathed as possible.” I stroke the tip of my finger over the soft skin of her jaw. “You can lean on me, Maddie. I promise I’ll help you bear the weight of this.”

Her hand closes around mine, still cupping her face, and squeezes. “Thanks, Seb.”

“It’s what I’m here for. I’m your husband, remember?”

“How could I forget?”

She says this flippantly, her tone light, but her eyes are still wide, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip. I find myself wanting to make sure that she doesn’t have to worry about a damn thing.

“Just… make it look like you’re in love with me?” she asks.

I give her my best flirtatious smile—one that I’m hoping will make her smile, too. “Pretty sure I can manage that.”