The Husband Game

Of his grandmother’s ring, still glinting on my finger whenever I move my hand. I glance at it now, bright and shining in the corner of my vision. And once I start looking at it, I can’t stop. I just stare, worried, confused. But also… kind of loving this. Being with him, meeting his family, goofing off with them.

“That would definitely get you a penalty anywhere else you know,” Charlie teases me, his eyes still heated, flashing where they catch mine.

Then he, too, glances down at the ring on my finger, and I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing. If he’s enjoying this moment, and how natural it feels for us to be here together, as much as I am.

Of course he isn’t, I scold myself. This is all just a game for him, just fake. I’d do best to remember that myself.

Then his father claps his hands. “Face off at center,” he declares. “Since that would have probably been a foul. Sorry Lila.”

“No, that’s fair,” I agree, and I skate to center. To face off against Charlie. Oh crap.

I gaze into his eyes as his father drops the puck between us. I scramble for it with my stick, but Charlie has years of practice on me. He plucks it from my control easily, and flips around me, then dodges between his father’s defense and fires it at his brother Mark, who’s goaltending. It smacks the pile of snow behind Mark, within the goal boundaries we defined, with a satisfying thwacking sound.

“Boo,” I chorus with his father and Mark, while Charlie and his mother high-five.

“Come on, Lila.” Charlie’s eyes spark when they meet mine once more. “Bring your A game.”

We play until someone in one of the houses near the lake cuts the power to about half of the lights out here. By the time we break, I’m sweaty, panting, my legs aching from the unfamiliar motions. Not to mention, my arms. These hockey sticks are heavy as hell. No wonder hockey players always look so ripped.

Charlie being no exception.

The other couple who had been teaching their kid to skate have long since gone home. Charlie’s parents decide it’s best we pack it in too, though I notice they’re careful to hurry off the ice, to leave Charlie and me a little time alone together, as he skates around picking up the remaining sticks.

“You did really well for someone who hasn’t skated since childhood,” Charlie remarks, easily gliding up and past me on the ice, before he spins around to skate backward in front of me.

Show off.

“Well, I tried. But I can’t really compete with your athleticism.”

“I don’t know.” He grins. “You scored twice,” he points out.

“Yeah, because the first time your dad pinned you so you couldn’t interfere, and the second time you were distracted by me winking at you.” I laugh.

His smile widens. “Just means you’re smart enough to use your assets to your advantage.” He reaches out to catch me around the waist as we near the edge of the pond. Then he pauses to check over his shoulder. But his parents are already halfway up the trail to the house, and his brother follows closely behind them. “Speaking of your assets…” he whispers, his breath a tickle, a caress against the nape of my neck.

I turn, and his lips find mine. The kiss is soft, slow. Searing, yet not just heat. There’s real passion there too, real feeling. When we break apart, I can tell both of our breaths come short, based on the amount of fog that steams the air between us, quick and heaving.

“Do you still think we did the right thing, coming up here?” I whisper, unable to resist. “Because… I can’t help thinking that we’re doing something wrong.” Leading his family on, making them think there’s more between us than there really is? It doesn’t sit right with me.

Just like we’re lying to all of our readers—or, well, my readers, I guess. Anyone following the article closely.

I push that thought to the back of my mind, as Charlie reaches up to brush his thumb along my mouth, tracing my lower lip. Then he leans in to kiss me again, right there, softly. “No,” he whispers, the word a new cloud between us, steaming in the chilling night air. “No. I don’t think we’re doing the wrong thing at all.”

13

We take our time weaving our way back to the cabin. With Charlie’s hands wrapped around mine, hot as ever, and the heat from all the action of the game still pumping through my system, I don’t feel cold, despite the deep snow and the evening air. My breath fogs as we walk, but there’s something peaceful about it. The complete silence up here, the full darkness. I can see more stars than I ever remember seeing before, glimpsed between branches of the pine trees that arch over us like the canopy of a cathedral.