A Groom of One’s Own: A Sweet Hockey RomCom

Bailey

I wake up married.

MARRIED.

Married but … alone.

I shove down the disappointment, which has dulled slightly after being acutely painful when I emerged from the bathroom and saw the empty bed. Then found Eli sitting up, sleeping with his head tilted back and mouth wide open, snoring softly.

Okay, in addition to the disappointment, I was also slightly amused. Had to cover my mouth to keep from guffawing. Eli sleeping, it turns out, is almost as heart-breakingly adorable as Eli awake.

In any case, I wasn’t about to wake him. For one, we were both pretty dead last night. Weddings are a killer in terms of exhaustion. Even the not-quite-traditional kind, as it happens. As gently as I could without waking him, I repositioned Eli so he was lying down, giving him a pillow and the blanket I found folded up in the closet. After burrowing his head a little deeper into the pillow, he smacked his lips and ordered, “Head rub.”

For half a second, I thought he was awake, and I froze. But then his breathing deepened, his eyelids fluttering those long blond lashes against his cheek.

Maybe I should have left then, to avoid creepy watching-new-husband-while-sleeping behavior, but the man did order a head rub. So, I spent a few minutes sitting on the coffee table, dragging my fingers through his soft hair. Why the man isn’t set up with a shampoo sponsor, I don’t know. I should send a letter to Pantene or Herbal Essences or whatever the kids are using these days. But then, I hate the idea of even a stylist having her hands on his hair, so maybe not.

I didn’t expect jealousy to come standard with the wedding band, but here we are.

After my hand started to cramp, I scrawled Eli a little note, smiling at the use of the words husband and wife, then came to bed feeling satisfied and also … very alone. I thought the whole kissing him with my dress half undone would have maybe been enough to let Eli know he was welcome to stay with me. If not for consummating the marriage—I want to kill Shannon for cementing that word in my brain—then just to sleep. I could imagine waking curled up beside Eli, his warm weight with me like it had been the night Annie came, when he climbed into my bed.

Anyway. I guess we have time for that? Or not. If that’s not what he wants. While I feel almost sure we’re on the same page, Eli seems just as reticent to talk about it as me. Probably not for the same reasons—where I struggle with words and saying things I want, the man seems unable to hold back.

Except with me. And I don’t know how to take that.

There are too many maybes in my head right now. They’re breeding like rabbits and did so until around two o’clock in the morning, when I fell into an exhausted, fitful sleep.

I spin the rings on my finger, taking off the band Eli placed there yesterday, reading the engraving again, then running my fingers over the letters. Awkward together. The thoughtfulness and the quirkiness of it makes a huge smile stretch across my face.

I should have come up with something like that for him. His ring is a plain gold band. It’s what he asked for, but now it doesn’t feel like enough. Though the present I’m planning to give him today is something I know he’ll love. More than love. I actually can’t wait.

In the long run, I know there’s no way I’ll be able to keep up with Eli’s level of thoughtful giving. He’s Olympic-level. I’ll just need to find my own ways of making him feel special.

I slide the ring back on my finger, staring down at how foreign my hands look with such beautiful jewelry.

A door slams, and then I hear noises from the main room of the suite—a rattle, grunt, and a jangle—approaching the bedroom. I sit up, straightening Eli’s button-down shirt. I really thought he had to have been exaggerating about Annie’s prank, but he might have downplayed it. When I opened my suitcase, I swear a purple, lacy thong practically shot out at my face. The only time I’ve seen that much lingerie is walking by Victoria’s Secret. Definitely nothing wearable in there. At least, not for this particular honeymoon.

But I’m grateful to have had the excuse to sleep in Eli’s shirt, smelling him against my skin while I slept. I’m not going to look this gift shirt in the mouth.

I would have preferred him.

There’s a knock at the door, and I scoot back against the pillows, pulling the comforter up over my bare legs. “Come in,” I call.

As Eli backs into the room, still in his lime-covered muumuu and tugging a silver rolling cart, I realize I didn’t wash off my makeup last night. Which means it’s still on my face, probably in none of the places it’s supposed to be.

To complete this elegant post-wedding look, my hair is a wild nest. I tied it into a knot last night because I hate the feel of hair heavy on my neck when I’m trying to sleep. Now it’s loosened but not fully unknotted. When I lift a hand to it, I’m surprised a squirrel doesn’t dart out, making a break for the door, stopping for one of the pastries on Eli’s cart.

“Morning,” he says, stopping at the end of my bed and turning to grin at me. “I am pleased to bring you your honeymoon breakfast service.”

Unlike my still sleep-rumpled state, Eli’s hair is damp, and the smell emanating from him screams freshly showered. There must be a second bathroom in this suite—I didn’t get a good look last night when he carried me in half asleep. Unless he snuck in here while I was sleeping and showered in this bathroom. My eyes dart away from the stack of pastries to the bathroom door, then back to the food.

I could worry about if Eli tiptoed through, seeing me sleeping. But: pastries!

“Would you like full-service breakfast in bed? Or would you prefer self-service?” I start to swing my legs over the side of the bed, not wanting Eli to go to any trouble, when he holds up a finger and says, “And if you’re choosing self-service to be nice even though what you really want is for me to serve you, put those pretty legs back in bed.”

He must see my hesitation, or maybe it’s the way I froze when he said pretty legs, but he arches a brow, grinning. “I mean it. Back in bed with you. If it makes you feel less guilty, I’ll join you.”

Eli rolls the cart closer so I can tell him what I’d like. It looks like he ordered one of everything and two of things that are sweet: chocolate chip pancakes, cinnamon buns, and chocolate-filled croissants.

“I wasn’t sure what you would like,” he says.

“You know some of what I like,” I tell him, pointing to my plate laden with sweets. And two strips of bacon as my token protein.

“I’m learning,” he says.

I want to be learning too, so I watch as he heaps his plate with eggs and bacon, along with what looks like a salad. Then he climbs into bed next to me, nudging my elbow with his before tucking into his food.

“You made fun of me for salad pizza, yet you’re having salad for breakfast?” I tease.

He rolls his eyes. “With all the traveling coming up and the extra games, I’m trying to stick to our meal plan. Which includes more spinach than I’d prefer. Want some?” He holds out a forkful, and I wrinkle my nose.

“Nope. I’m happy with my chocolate,” I tell him. “So, you really do have a meal plan?”

“It’s a bigger deal in the NHL. A lot of our guys are looser with things, though we often have as many games and almost as much training. I don’t like being strict with my diet, but I do feel better if I’m more regimented about it.”

He pauses, his gaze sliding from my eyes down to my mouth. And then, too swiftly for me to react, his lips are on the corner of my mouth. He lingers there, unmoving, as my eyelids flutter closed and my pulse hammers through me. Then his lips part, and I feel the tiniest drag of his tongue on my skin.

I almost black out, not sure how such a tiny movement caused such an intensity of want. The fork shakes in my hand.

“Sometimes I cheat,” Eli murmurs, still right next to my mouth, his lips brushing the corner of mine.

“Cheat?” I whisper, barely restraining myself from turning my head so our mouths fully meet. It’s only the fear of my morning breath—thanks to Annie for stealing all our toiletries—that holds me in place.

Eli pulls away, a crooked grin on his face. “You had a little chocolate right there.” He points.

I wonder what Eli would do if I dip my finger into the center of the croissant and then drag it all the places I’d like to feel his mouth on me.

Eli’s phone rings. Saved by the bell? Or ruined by the bell? I’m not sure.

“It’s Annie,” he says, picking up. “I hope you aren’t looking for a thanks, Ananias. I’m currently in the honeymoon suite bed wearing a muumuu.”

But then his face goes still, and when his eyes find mine, they’re intense and serious.

“We’ll be back soon,” he says, then hangs up, already moving out of bed.

“Mom’s having a rough morning,” he says. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but do you mind if we⁠—”

“Let’s go,” I tell him, all thoughts of chocolate and kissing set aside.

“I’m sorry for ruining your honeymoon,” Maggie says, and I reach across to the passenger seat and touch her hand. “I know you only got like twelve hours of wedded bliss.”

“No worries,” I assure her, meaning it. I pull out of the doctor’s office parking lot, heading back toward our side of town.

Eli was able to skip morning practice today, but he had to be at The Summit for training and meetings all afternoon since the team leaves tonight. My stomach clenches at the thought. Our honeymoon—more like a tiny moon—always would have been quick. Though our morning might possibly have been a lot more fun if Annie hadn’t called.

After arriving home in our wedding clothes again—which made Annie snort-laugh—I assured Eli we could handle things. Annie practically shoved him out of the house, and she and I drove Maggie to her doctor.

On the one hand, yes—it’s disappointing the way hockey is stealing Eli from me so quickly. But I’m weirdly grateful for the space. I already know I’m going to miss him when he leaves tonight, but I hope this will help me process everything happening between us.

Yesterday was … intense. I need a minute to get a handle on my emotions.

Annie pokes her head between the seats and gives me a wicked grin. “I’m sure they enjoyed a lot of wedded bliss in those twelve hours.”

Maggie only laughs, and I shake my head, groaning.

“And yes,” Annie adds. “In case you were wondering, you can always expect this level of intrusion and violation of your privacy.”

“How long are you staying again?” I ask lightly.

Annie laughs and pats me on the shoulder. “Did you hear that, Ma? This is a whole new side of sweet Bailey. Salty Bailey. I love it.”

“You can always expect this level of giving as good as I get,” I say, echoing her words and making Maggie laugh, which then turns into a grimace as she presses a hand to her chest.

“You okay, Ma?” Annie rubs a hand down Maggie’s arm.

“Don’t mind me,” Maggie says, but Annie and I exchange a look.

The doctor was thankfully able to work Maggie in for a steroid shot. A corticosteroid shot, to be exact. I took notes, wanting to make sure I know as much as possible to help me in the next few weeks. And anytime Eli travels. The shot should help with some of the pain and inflammation, most likely exacerbated by all the activity this week. I’ll try not to feel guilty that our fake-ish—or not at all fake?—wedding exacerbated her issues.

When the doctor gave Maggie a look and told us to make sure she takes it easy, Annie muttered, “If you can give us a straitjacket, that would help.”

But I don’t think it will be hard to make Maggie rest. I’ve never seen her so worn down, limping and wincing with even the smallest movements. Not even the day we looked for dresses and Eli carried her around. It would have been great to have him around for that today, though with Annie and I helping support Maggie, we did okay.

“What are we doing here again?” Annie asks as I pull into a parking space in front of the shelter.

I told them I needed to make a quick stop before heading back to the house. I glance up at the building where I’ve worked for more than a year. But I didn’t tell them why we needed to stop.

“I’m putting in my notice.” Honestly, the only thing I’ll miss about the place is Beth. And the animals. But I can’t wait to start my new job at an actual vet hospital. With a vet who isn’t Dr. Evil. “Thanks to you”—I give Maggie’s hand a quick squeeze—“and Eli being nosy, I have a cushy new job starting soon.”

“You’re quitting your job?” Annie asks. “Ooh, I want to come!”

“I’m just handing in a letter. I’m not, like, pulling a Jerry Maguire or anything.”

“Jerry who?” Annie asks.

Maggie laughs. “Okay, I know what movie we’re watching when we get home.”

I can’t convince Annie it won’t be boring, so she joins me inside, where I’ve got one other thing to do before I officially hand over my letter. Beth is up front and comes around the desk to give us both hugs.

“Aren’t you supposed to be spending the day doing married people things?” Beth asks, her eyes twinkling.

Annie laughs, and before she can make any kind of comment, I say, “Eli has training and meetings today. The team leaves tonight.”

“Aw.” Beth frowns. “That’s too bad.”

“I’ll be fine.” If I keep saying it, maybe I’ll manifest it instead of feeling sick thinking about Eli being across the country. “I’m just here to give my official notice,” I tell her. “And to pick up Eli’s surprise.”

I hand Beth the adoption paperwork I filled out a few days ago, and she slides it into a folder, then gives my arm an extra little squeeze. “How will I survive without you?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You need to move on. And Dr. Evil’s arrows don’t pierce this armor.” She pounds a fist on her chest, and Annie laughs.

“Is she here?” I ask.

“Unfortunately,” Beth says. “Last I saw, she was in her office.”

“You’re not supposed to come back here,” I tell Annie as I head toward the door, but she steps up next to me, giving me a look. “But I’m not going to fight you over it.”

“Good. You’d lose. I’m scrappy,” she says, fake punching the air.

I have no doubt. She’s also not as tall or muscular as Eli, but she has a very athletic build and at least six inches on me. Even if she weren’t scrappy, it wouldn’t be much of a contest. Honestly, I don’t hate having her beside me as I hand in my official letter of resignation.

Even if that means getting the death glare from Dr. Evil as I knock on her office door. “Who’s this and why is she back here?” she asks, barely glancing at my typed letter of resignation. Maybe she assumes it’s me trying again to get her to write a recommendation or something.

“I’m Annie.” She reaches out a hand, but Dr. Evil ignores it. Because of course she does. Though if she knew Eli is Annie’s brother, I bet the reaction would be a whole lot different.

“I’m just giving you my notice.” I point toward the paper, now on her desk next to the monitor, where she’s playing Free Cell.

Frowning, she picks it up between two fingers, her expression souring as she scans the page.

“Bet she’s a peach to work with,” Annie mutters close to my ear. “Can’t imagine why you’re quitting.”

Dr. Evil finally sets down the paper and pushes back her chair to stand. Clearly, she means to be intimidating as she looms over me, but Annie steps closer and looms over the vet. It’s such an Eli move, I almost laugh.

“No need to finish out your two weeks,” Dr. Evil says, backing up a little. “You can consider it unpaid vacation for the honeymoon.”

She says the word with so much derision, Annie makes a little growling sound next to me. I lean my shoulder against her, just in case. The last thing I need today, when I told Eli to trust me with his family, is for Annie to get arrested on my watch.

“That works,” I tell her. Though if it weren’t for Eli pretty much bankrolling my life, this would be an issue. But I don’t need to have this battle. Not today. “Thanks for … everything.” I have nothing specific to thank her for, and everything feels generous, but I’m ready to get out of here.

Poor Beth. I wish I could take her with me. Maybe I can recommend her to my new boss if they have any other openings.

But as I guide Annie away from the office and toward the kennels, Dr. Evil trails behind us. “That’s the wrong way,” she says. “Exit’s up front. Also, no one who isn’t official staff or a volunteer should be back here.”

I only offer her an insincere smile. “I’m just going to pick up all my things. Then you won’t have to see me ever again.”

And vice versa. One more thing I owe Eli for. That list really is starting to stack high. But I decided something in the middle of the night when I wasn’t sleeping, thinking of Eli on the couch and Eli saying his vows and Eli kissing me after helping with my dress. I decided I want to be bold. To tell Eli how I actually feel and what I actually want.

The problem, again, is that I’m not good at this. I need time to figure this out. Which I guess his two weeks on the road will give me. I should be thankful, but I still just don’t want him to go.

In any case, while I figure out how to use my words, I’m going to start with actions. To match Eli’s kind thoughtfulness with my own. And I cannot wait to see his face.