Tyler reads that one twice, and something in his face settles.
The team has changed around him this season—Carter and Williams openly lobbying for a captaincy change before next year's vote, Danny sitting with Tyler at every lunch now, the Falcons making the playoffs. Something that was broken has been repaired, slowly, imperfectly, the way things actually heal.
That evening, after Harper's in bed, Tyler and I end up on the couch with glasses of wine, both of us finally relaxed enough to think about the future instead of just surviving the present.
"I've been thinking," I say carefully. "About what I want to do. Career-wise."
"Yeah?"
"I love being here with Harper. I don't want to change that." I take a breath. "But I miss using my degree. My background is in business and financial planning. I was thinking about starting a consulting practice. Small-scale at first, from home. A few clients. Mostly small business owners who need the kind of systems and strategy work that a big firm wouldn't take on."
Tyler is quiet for a moment, and I start to worry I've overstepped.
Then he says, "You'd be incredible at that."
"Really?"
"Red. You organized our entire custody case, and it impressed a family court judge. You created color-coded tracking systems that a pediatrician said were the best documentation she'd seen in her practice. You manage our household budget, Harper's schedule, and about a thousand other things without breaking a sweat." He turns to face me fully. "You could run a consulting practice in your sleep. And I'll support whatever you want to do. Always."
"You wouldn't mind? If I'm working while also caring for Harper?"
"Mind?" His face is warm. "Harper's going to grow up watching her mom build something. That's an incredible thing to see. That's the thing I want her to know, that the people she loves are whole people with their own work and ambitions."
The wordmomlands in me like something warm and certain.
"I love you," I say quietly.
"I love you, too." He presses a kiss to my temple. "Now tell me more about the consulting idea. What would your first client look like?"
We spend an hour talking through it, the potential clients, theservices I'd offer, and what I'd need to set up a home office. Tyler asks good questions, practical ones, the way he does with things he's actually paying attention to. At one point, he gets up, comes back with a legal pad, and starts taking notes, which makes me love him in a very specific and very inconvenient way.
"And when we get the new house," he says, writing, "we'll build the office in from the start. Not just a corner of a guest room. An actual office. With a door."
"Are we definitely getting a new house?"
"I've been looking at listings for two months." He looks up. "Didn't want to say anything while the custody case was going on, but, yeah. A real house, Red. With a yard for Harper. Somewhere that's actually ours."
I stare at him. "Two months."
"I know what I want. I've known for a while."
Emma calls on video right on cue, grinning from the screen.
"There's my third favorite hockey player and his girlfriend, whom he's been secretly dating for months!"
"Not so secret anymore."
"Please. I've known for ages." She points at the screen. "I'm maid of honor when you do this properly. Non-negotiable. Harper is the flower girl."
After we hang up, Tyler pulls me close.
"Sorry about Emma."
"Don't be. She's right."
He kisses my hair. We stay on the couch for another hour talking about nothing important, the way we do, and eventually we head upstairs to bed, and Tyler pulls me close the second we're under the covers.
"Love you, Red," he whispers, already half asleep.