If You Love Me: Chapter 41

Messages from the players have kept me afloat the past few days. Not being able to attend practices, see my players, do my job, is a horrible kind of torture. I worked so hard to get here, and now I’m in limbo. But Roman has been a rock through it all. And the outpouring of support from the team has been humbling. So has the support from the Badass Babe Brigade. Dred has been a constant, and the rest of the girls have been so good about daily check-ins. Well, except for Shilpa, but that I understand.

Today Roman is meeting with the Hockey Academy staff, and because I’m not at work, it means I’m very available for Callie and her hockey practices. I’m grateful no one seems to have clued in as to why I’ve been here the past few days. Still, it’s only a matter of time before the rest of the world finds out. I’m preparing for the worst, but I honestly have no idea what I’ll be up against.

I refocus on the rink. Callie is having an off practice. She’s let in three goals, which isn’t like her. She usually has more energy. Maybe she hasn’t been sleeping well either. I’m sure my stress is rubbing off on her.

After practice, she comes out of the locker room, dragging her bag behind her.

“You okay, kiddo?” I ruffle her hair.

“My tummy feels yucky,” she mumbles.

“Let me carry your bag. Maybe you’re hungry? Did you eat all your lunch?”

She shakes her head. “I didn’t feel like pizza today.”

Pizza is her favorite. She loves leftovers for lunch the next day. “Should we grab something from the snack bar on the way out? It might help.”

She shrugs. “Okay. Is Roman coming over?”

“He should be at our place around seven.”

“Do you think he’ll read me stories tonight? He always does different voices for the characters.”

“I’m sure he will.” We stop at the concession stand. “Do you feel like a hot dog?”

She wrinkles her nose. “Maybe just some pretzels.”

“Okay. And how about a ginger ale?”

I pay the teenager working the cash register and tuck the snacks into my purse until we’re in the car. Callie is quiet on the ride home, but she polishes off the pretzels and half the can of soda. As soon as we get on the elevator, she buries her face against my stomach. “I really don’t feel good, Lexi.”

I smooth her hair back. “Maybe you’re coming down with something.”

She’s been tired the past couple of days, falling asleep in the middle of a story. I chalked it up to all the stuff going on in our lives. But maybe it’s more than that. I bend and press my lips to her forehead. “You’re warm. Let’s get you into the condo, and we’ll take your temperature.”

I barely have her in the door before she throws up all over the wall. Exorcist style. And promptly bursts into tears. I get it. I want to do the same.

“Lexi, I feel really awful,” Callie moans.

“I know, honey.” I hustle her down the hall to the bathroom, and she unleashes the demons in her stomach while I hold her ponytail and rub her back.

“Lexi! What the heck happened in the hallway!” Fee shouts.

“Callie’s not well!” I call back as another round of heaving begins.

But there’s nothing left in Callie’s stomach, so she just keeps retching and crying.

“Oh wow. Someone has the flu.” Roman’s voice brings equal parts relief and anxiety.

I don’t know if he has the best or worst timing. I’m over here holding myself together with duct tape and a prayer.

“Lexi, angel?” He appears in the doorway. He’s wearing a suit, looking far too put together for this nightmare.

“Can you grab us a glass of water, please? She’s dry heaving.”

“Absolutely. I’ll be right back.” He returns seconds later with a glass of water. “Give your mouth a rinse, kiddo,” he instructs Callie.

She spits the water out, then does it again and follows with a small sip.

“Don’t guzzle it, even if you want to, okay? A little at a time.” He looks to me. “Do you want me to take over here or would you like me to tackle the hall?”

I shrug and shake my head. Neither seems appealing.

“I’ll deal with the hall and come back to check on you.” At least one of us can make decisions.

He kisses my temple and leaves me with Callie, returning a handful of minutes later, which seems impossible considering the mess. Thankfully, Callie has stopped heaving.

“How are my girls?” he asks.

“I think I have the flu.” Callie lets him pick her up and rests her head on his shoulder.

“I think maybe you’re right.” Roman carries her out of the bathroom. “Should we get you into some jammies and have a little snuggle on the couch?”

“What if I’m sick again?” she asks.

“We’ll have everything we need, just in case.”

I trail behind them, feeling wildly incompetent.

He sets Callie on her bed. “I’ll get everything set up in the living room.” He kisses my cheek and leaves me to help her change.

“I’m sorry I threw up in the hall,” she says as I tuck her feet into slippers.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.” It feels like mine thanks to the stress we’re all under.

Roman knocks on the door. “How’s it going in there?”

“You can come in!” I should be able to handle a sick little girl on my own, but I’m barely coping.

“Want a ride to the living room?” he asks.

Callie grabs her stuffed axolotl as he swoops in again to pick her up. Out in the living room, a towel covers one arm of the couch, a blanket laid out beside it. Close by is a bowl and a glass of water, along with some children’s flu medication. Callie’s favorite movie is cued up. Roman settles her on the couch and starts the movie. Half an hour in, I get a delivery alert.

“I ordered some stuff. I’ll go down and get it,” Roman offers.

Two pillows are stacked on his lap, and Callie is snuggled up with him, her feet tucked under my leg. He gave her some flu medicine, and she’s already half asleep.

“That’s okay. I’ll grab it.” I leave the two of them on the couch and take the elevator to the lobby.

Of course Roman thought of everything. The bag contains soda crackers, plain noodles, ginger ale, a gel ice pack, and electrolyte-replacement freezies. I love how thoughtful and action-oriented he is. But I worry that I’m starting to see a pattern. He keeps saving us, especially me, and I don’t want that to unbalance our relationship. But I can’t decide if it’s rooted in my fear of ending up like my mother, or that I’m just particularly sensitive because of my current situation.

Callie has passed out by the time I return, so I gather her up and put her to bed. Fee is holed up in her room, uninterested in getting the flu since she has a math test tomorrow.

I motion for Roman to follow me down the hall to my bedroom.

He pulls the door closed and pushes my hair over my shoulders. “How are you?”

“Okay.” I fiddle with the collar of his shirt.

“You don’t seem okay. Callie being sick is stressing you out on top of everything else?” he asks.

“Yeah.” I blow out a breath.

He tips my chin up. “What aren’t you saying, angel?”

“I can handle Callie when she’s sick. I’ve done it before. I mean, you’ve probably done a lot more of it than I have, and I absolutely appreciate you stepping in and helping…” I pause, hating my own vulnerabilities. But he’s my partner and saying nothing won’t make anything better.

“But…” He strokes my cheek, encouraging me, telling me with actions that honesty isn’t just okay, it’s essential.

“I’m not used to being saved all the time, Roman, and you are very good at it. Part of that is my own issue. My mom had a lot of hard feelings when she and my dad split up, and I realize that to stay on her side, I avoided asking him for help. I need to work on that, but when you come in and try to fix everything, I feel like I don’t have a handle on my own shit.”

He fingers a tendril of my hair. “You absolutely have a handle on your shit, Lexi.”

“Do I, though? We got married to save my job. And I absolutely want to be married to you, but now I’m on leave and I feel…I don’t know. Like I’ve lost my agency, maybe? You’re running interference with the Terror while I’m here, just sort of paralyzed. Now Callie is sick, and again, you show up and save the day. I love that you’re a problem solver, Roman, but I want to feel like your partner and not someone you need to take care of.”

He frowns, absorbing. “Do you feel steamrolled?”

“Not steamrolled. You’re just so capable, and I love that about you. It’s easy for you to step in and fix things. You’re ruthlessly competent. But sometimes, like tonight, I question my ability to handle things. I worry I won’t measure up. I know part of this is me and my own hang-ups, but with the girls I need to be your equal. Especially right now.”

The hurt on his face makes my chest ache.

“That’s not what—” He runs a hand through his hair. “Shit. I totally take over. How long have you felt like this?”

“I just noticed the pattern. Like a minute ago.” I don’t want to hurt him, but keeping my mouth shut the way I used to when it came to my parents isn’t helpful for either of us.

“So you haven’t been holding this in? Feeling like you can’t tell me how my actions affect you?” he presses.

“No. I literally just made the connection.”

“Okay.” He nods once. “That’s good. I need you to tell me when I’m being overbearing. Or make you question your capabilities.” He tucks my hair gently behind my ear. “This was a big thing with me and Peggy last year, and a major reason she and Hollis felt like they had to keep their relationship a secret.” His anguish is real, and so is his vulnerability. “I overcompensated and over-parented her to the point where she believed I’d be so upset with her that I’d stop loving her. I could have saved us all so much heartache if I’d realized sooner what I was doing.”

He’s showing me the soft part of himself. Giving me the pieces that make up the whole, letting me see his fears, just like he did at the cabin.

“Oh, Roman.” I cup his face in my palms. “You love so completely. I promise I’ll tell you, as gently as possible, to step back when I feel like you’re veering into fix-the-problem mode, so we can have balance.”

“Okay, good.” He wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me closer. “I’m sorry I took over.”

“I appreciate you cleaning up all the gross stuff and ordering supplies for Callie, though.” I link my hands behind his neck. “It was thoughtful.”

“I’m used to taking care of everything on my own. I mean, I had the team’s support when Peggy was growing up, but it was mostly a me show.” His fingers drift up and down my spine. “I don’t want you to ever feel alone in this.”

“I get that, and I welcome you in my life. I’m used to taking care of myself, too. But you make me feel secure enough in myself and our relationship that I can be honest about things like this. We just have some adjusting to do to make it all work.”

“We’ll figure it out together.” He kisses me softly.

“Just to be clear, inside the bedroom I’m all about you taking complete control.” I finger the hair at the nape of his neck. “Nothing makes me happier than being yours to do with as you please.”

His smile grows wicked, and he captures my braid in his fist, but he doesn’t have the chance to utter something wicked, because my phone rings. “You could ignore that and let me make up for being an overbearing husband,” he murmurs darkly.

“I would love that, but it’s my dad.”

He releases my braid and steps back. “We’ll pause this until later.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No apologies.” He strokes my cheek. “Talk to your dad.”

I answer the call. “Hey, how’s it going?”

“Good. I wanted to check in. Any movement on you going back to work? Do you need me to top up your bank account? Do the girls need anything?” Dad rapid-fires questions, but I can hear him typing in the background. Attention divided.

Roman kisses my forehead and leaves my bedroom, closing the door behind him.

“No news on when I’m going back to work. They’re in the process of interviewing the team, and that will take some time.” Although based on Roman’s reports and my text messages, we have the overwhelming support of the players. “And Callie’s sick,” I tack on.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Dad says. “I’ve called the team lawyer. She’s a sharp one. She also knows they can’t fire you. This is all standard protocol. It’s only a matter of time before you’re back on the ice. Did you take Callie to the doctor?”

“It’s the flu, so it just has to run it’s course. But maybe when she’s feeling better you can come out for a visit.” Callie would be excited, and Lord knows she could use something to look forward to with all the shit going on.

“I can check my calendar and get back to you on that.”

“Why don’t you check it now?” I press.

“It depends on my cases, honey. It’s a busy time of year.”

“It’s always a busy time of year.” I’m too tired of fighting for his attention to bite my tongue anymore. “You know what? Don’t bother. You’ll just work the entire time and leave early, like always.”

“That’s not fair. You know how important my job is.”

“More important than me, every single time,” I fire back. Apparently, I’m in full confrontation mode. And as much as I might love my job with the Terror, I won’t put it in front of the people I love. I won’t do that to the people I care about the most, because I’ve had it done to me my entire life.

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it? I’ve been put on leave, and I got married, to one of the players no less, and not once have you suggested coming to see me, or even formally meeting Roman. I’m parenting my sisters, my life is in upheaval, and you’re calling me while you’re writing an email, or a report, or who the fuck knows what. Like a phone call to your daughter is something to tick off on a list.”

“Lexi, it isn’t⁠—”

“It’s not what, Dad? It’s not true either? Tell me there isn’t a paper list sitting beside you with my name and phone call at the bottom of it.”

He sighs.

“God, it sucks that I’m right.” Here I am getting upset with Roman for overdoing it in the taking-care-of-me department, and now I’m upset with my dad for never making me a priority. I’m a hot mess of conflicting emotions. But it all makes sense. It’s rooted in my fear of losing my independence, my desire to have a partner who sees me as their equal, who I would give it all up for, because Roman would do the same for me. I want the kind of love that’s worth fighting for. I want to be worth fighting for. And with Roman, I am.

“I’m not a good father,” Dad says.

“That’s—”

“Let me finish. I know I haven’t done a great job being your dad, Lexi. And I know your relationship with your mom was strained because of me. I tried to give you space because I didn’t want to come between you. Or that’s what I rationalized. But it doesn’t excuse my lack of presence in your life. And I’m sorry for that. Emotionally, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to give you what you need, what you deserve. And you deserve a dad who can drop everything and be there for you. But if I did come to see you, all I’d be doing is setting us both up for disappointment. I’m good at being a lawyer. I’m good at solving legal problems that involve logic. But I’m not good at emotional support. And I’m so sorry for that.”

“I’m sorry, too.” It’s not what I want to hear, but at least it’s the truth and not lip service.

“I wish I was better at being a parent. I know it’s a shortcoming.”

“I love you anyway, Dad.” And I do, even though sometimes it hurts.

“I love you, too, honey. More than I’m capable of expressing most of the time. I’ll come for a visit. Maybe I can time it so I can be there for your first game back with the team. If you want me there?”

The girl in me who forever wants her dad’s approval rejoices. The rest of me realizes I should probably make a therapist appointment so I can find a healthy way to deal with these feelings. “That would be good.”

“And I can get to know your husband a little better.”

“We’d like that.” The tears start to well, so I clear my throat. “I should check on Callie. Make sure she’s doing okay.”

“Okay. We’ll talk soon.”

“Sounds good.”

I end the call and look at the ceiling, willing the tears to stay put. But they fall anyway. I open my bedroom door as Roman steps out of Callie’s room. He’s changed into a plain white shirt and plaid pajama pants. He puts his finger to his lips and slips back into my bedroom.

He takes one look at my face and gathers me in his arms. “You okay?”

“Nope. But I will be.” I loop my arms around his neck.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not right now.”

“What can I do?” He strokes my cheek. “Tell me what you need.”

“Just you.”