by Sarina Bowen
He takes a step toward me and lifts a hand to my cheek. Yes! Then soft lips graze mine. I close my eyes and wait for the rest of the kiss.
But it doesn’t come. Cool air meets my face instead. He drops my hand and moves back. When I open my eyes, he’s heading toward the car.
“Don’t do this,” I say quickly. “It’s just been a shitty night. You didn’t call, and it freaked me out. So I said I was disappointed, but…”
“I’m sorry, Hailey,” he says, cutting me off. “You’re great. But I can’t do this again.”
Then the car door shuts.
And the car slides away.
The taillights disappear as I wonder what the hell just happened. I’m standing on the sidewalk like an idiot in the cold, and Matt is gone. The winter chill gets me moving, at least. Numb, I shuffle up to my door and let myself into the small front lobby, then ride the elevator upstairs to my apartment. Dropping my purse on the coffee table, I survey my lonely little apartment. In the bedroom, makeup is still strewn around from Jenny’s ministrations.
The conversation I had with her a few hours ago feels like another lifetime.
My phone is ringing in my purse, and I kick off my heels and run for it. I desperately need it to be Matt. That was stupid of me, he’ll say. I’ve snapped out of it and I’m standing outside your door right now.
The number isn’t one I recognize. But hope springs eternal, so I answer the phone.
“Hailey?” a female voice asks.
“Yes?”
“This is Katie Hewitt. From the WAGs?”
Of course I know who Katie Hewitt is. “Hi, Katie! Um, this is…” a really bad time.
“Oh, honey. Did he miss it?”
“Miss what?” I say, swallowing hard.
“Your awards ceremony! They had that awful delay with the jet in New York. At poker night in Philly, Matt said tonight was important to you, so I’ve been worrying about you all evening.”
“You…”—gulp—“were?”
“Oh, yeah. Always. We WAGs have to look out for each other. I’m sorry you didn’t have a date tonight.”
“Well, I probably could have gotten over that disappointment if Matt didn’t just dump me.”
“WHAT?”
“He said…” I sniffle. “He couldn’t do this again. That I’ll end up hating him.” Now I’m pouring out my heart to a stranger who’s known him longer than I have.
“Oh, Matt,” Katie tsks. “You idiot. TAXI!” There’s the sound of breaks screeching to a halt. “Yeah, take me to twelve-eighty Yonge Street.”
“Katie?” I say, confused. “That’s my address.”
“I know, sweetums. I’m coming to see you.”
“You are?”
“Of course! I told you WAGs have to stick together. Now go into the kitchen and tell me if you have any wine. Daiquiri mix is my usual go-to, but I realize this is an emergency.”
“Um…” I wander into my kitchen and open the freezer. “There’s, uh, two of those cans of frozen margarita mix. My friend Jenny left it here a while back.”
“Perfect. So I’ll get Estrella to bring a bottle of tequila.”
“Uh…”
“Be there in ten.” Click.
I spend the next eleven minutes panic cleaning—stacking mail and hiding my laundry pile. But at least there’s no time to think about Matt. I don’t know whether I want to stab him with a pencil or throw myself at his feet, weeping.
When the doorbell rings, I open it to find Katie and Estrella on the other side.
“Omigod!” Katie shrieks. “You look amazing!”
I look down, realizing I’m still wearing a fancy dress. “Thank you. I do need to change.”
“First we want to see this award!” Estrella says, gliding into the room. “So exciting. I’ve never won an award.”
“Well, it’s nothing. It’s just…” I look down at the coffee table where my purse is. No statue. “Oh, shit.”
“What’s the matter, honey?”
“I…” My award was on the seat of the taxi cab. I forgot to pick it up again when I got out. “I lost it.” And for some reason that’s the last straw. So I burst into tears.
“Oh!” Katie cries, running over to hug me. “Rough night, sweetie. They happen. Quick, Estrella! Margaritas!”
The other woman goes running into my kitchen.
“R-rough…n-night,” I echo, shaking. “The roughest I’ve had in a wh-while.”
“You’ll be okay.” She rocks me against her generous, sparkly bosom. “Next week we’ll all be celebrating in the WAGs box again. This too shall pass.”
I pull away. “I won’t be. He was pretty clear about that.” And I realize something awful. “Katie, you guys should be at home tonight. You haven’t seen your husband in eight days! Aren’t you missing out on some sexy times?”
She gives me a sweet smile. “Ben was so tired when he stumbled through the door that I just pointed at the sofa and brought him a pillow. After a three-game road trip, sometimes he needs to sleep it off before he can get me off.”
“Preach, sister,” Estrella says from my kitchen. “Luko staggered in the door as grumpy as an ogre. They landed at the wrong airport, you know.”
“What?”
“There was a signaling problem at Pearson, and the jet was diverted to Porter. Luckily our car wasn’t parked at Pearson.”
“Matt’s was,” I say slowly. “With his tux in it.”
“I thought of that,” Estrella answers, carrying two margaritas into my living room. She’d found my martini glasses. “Drink this. It’s medicinal. Scares off the dementors.”
“I thought that was chocolate,” I say, taking a glass.
“Pffft,” Estrella replies, handing one to Katie. “You can’t tell me those grownup witches and wizards weren’t hitting the hard stuff after a rough day with Voldemort.”
I smile for the first time since my fake smiles at the podium tonight. These women are awesome. I really am going to miss them.
There is a burst of rapid knocking on my door, and my heart lifts. But then the voice I hear from the other side is female. “Girls! My hands are full here!”
I lunge for the door, opening it to find Jess Canning on the other side. Her arms are full—there’s a bakery box in one hand and a bunch of roses in the other. “I come bearing cheesecake!” she announces. “And these are for you. Congratulations!”
“You didn’t have to…”
“The WAGs stick together,” Estrella says, trading Jess a margarita for the cheesecake.
“But I’m not a WAG,” I argue. “Though I really appreciate you guys tonight.”
“You are, though,” Katie says. “The way Matt looks at you? There is no chance it’s over.” She leaves the room, returning a moment later with my cake server. Which is a miracle, because I couldn’t have told you where that thing was. It’s been ages since I served a piece of cake to anyone.
“I’ll get the plates,” Jess offers, sipping her drink.
I open my mouth to argue and then shut it again. With the WAGs, I’ve learned you have to just roll with it.
“Everyone sit,” Estrella orders. “Wait—Hailey, go change. I’m cutting the cake.”
There’s no point in resisting. So I go into my room and take off the dress. I toss it onto a chair without another glance. No point in moping over tonight anymore. I’m going to eat cheesecake and get a little drunk with the WAGs. One last time.
Back in the living room, I drag a floor pillow toward the coffee table and take a seat there, leaving the couch and a chair for my guests. Jess takes the chair and eases into it with a sigh. Then she takes a sip of the drink Estrella made her.
Katie narrows her eyes. “Took you a few extra minutes to get here.”
“Traffic,” Jess says, reaching for her cake plate.
“Your hair is messy,” Estrella says. “Don’t tell me Blake rallied while the rest of our men fell apart tonight.”
She chews her lip, look
ing guilty. “Apparently they all took naps on the plane.” She clears her throat. “The Blake Snake was feeling quite perky when he came through the door.”
Katie drops her fork. “You bitch.”
Jess grins. “It’s not like I was bragging. You brought it up. We had a welcome home quickie. So sue me. He’s probably passed out in the massage chair now, drooling on his chin.”
“Where did this quickie take place?” Estrella pries. “I know you two rarely make it to the bed.”
“Things were extra urgent tonight,” Jess says, cutting a bite of cheesecake with her fork. “I ran to kiss him in the front hall, and we ended up doing it on the welcome mat. It’s not the first time. The downside, though, is that Puddles watched the whole time, because he felt slighted. When Blake rolled off me, the dog licked his face.”
I choke on a sip of my margarita and then sputter-laugh while the other women howl. “Blake’s dog is a perv,” Katie giggles. “How fitting.”
“No surprise, really.” She takes a bite. “This is damn good cheesecake. I can say that because I didn’t make it myself.”
“You could say that even if you did make it yourself,” I argue.
“Damn straight,” Katie agrees. “We have to give ourselves some credit, right? Starting with you, Hailey. Tomorrow morning you need to storm the gates. Tell that man he’s an idiot for saying he’d leave you.”
“Yeah.” She’s right, of course. Matt might leave me anyway. But I can’t slink off into the shadows like a kicked puppy. He matters to me. If I don’t stand up for us, what does that say about me?
“You look better, Hailey girl,” Estrella observes. “I can see your wheels turning.”
“Oh they are. I think his ex did a number on his self-confidence.”
“But he can’t say it out loud, because he’s a macho man.” Jess rolls her eyes. “They like to suffer in silence.”
“She convinced him he wasn’t enough,” I say, and it sounds ridiculous out loud. “But I don’t think she was entirely honest about her feelings.”
“Even if she was!” Katie argues, slapping her knee. “She’s wrong. I mean, we all have shitty nights when the men are on the road. They happen. There’s no getting around it.”
“Amy had a C-section during the playoffs,” Estrella says, shaking her head. “Sully was a thousand miles away trying to punish Tampa when their son was born. Important stuff gets missed. But on the other hand, the highs are pretty high…”
“They are!” Katie agrees, lifting her drink for emphasis. “The best guys in the world. The best sport in the world. And we have front row seats. The highs are like jet-stream high! And if we’re honest, the lows aren’t so damn low. I mean, if Amy was married to a guy who had to work three jobs to support their new baby, he could have missed the birth pouring coffee at Tim Hortons on a double shift.”
“And let’s not forget that we live like queens,” Estrella points out. “Mi abuelo dug ditches to pay the rent. I know what struggle looks like. It would be some seriously bad juju to complain about your man’s hours when you’re crying in your thousand-thread-count pillowcases.”
“Like Kara did,” Katie adds, giving voice to the thoughts in my mind.
“When things get rough, we do this.” Jess waves at the cheesecake and the margaritas. “Then we remember that life is good.”
Her comment resonates with me for the rest of the night. I can do that. I can weather any storm, face any low that comes our way. I’ll do it for Matt.
If he lets me.
Twenty-One
We Need to Talk
Matt
It’s eight in the morning, and I’m sitting on my couch feeling hollow.
At six thirty I picked up Rufus from the doggy ranch. Then I took him out for a walk so long he was giving me pleading looks by the end of it. Now we’re on the couch, his chin on my knee.
I didn’t sleep last night. Taking a four-hour nap and then calling it quits with the girlfriend is a bad recipe for a peaceful night’s sleep.
Right now I want to call Hailey so badly. I just want to hear her soft voice. But I refuse to give her mixed signals. When I said I couldn’t do this again, I meant it. The slow grind toward disillusionment and divorce is fucking awful.
What can she possibly see in a guy who’s never around?
There’s still two hours until I have to be at the rink to watch video of our next two opponents. I should make coffee, but the weight of Rufus’s head on my knee is a comfort, and I stroke his head while I brood.
But then he lifts his chin suddenly, his ears perking up. A moment later there’s a knock on my apartment door.
Hailey. I know it’s her even before I get up and cross the room. When I open the door, she’s standing there in a suit and heels, two cups of coffee in her hands.
“Hi,” she says. “I heard everything you said last night, but there’s something you need to know.”
For a second I don’t do anything. I don’t greet her or widen the door or even get out of the way. I’m too busy taking in her sweet face, its tentative expression so dear to me. I’m tongue tied. I feel like she did the first few times we were in a room together.
Rufus picks up my slack. He gives a little woof of recognition and then dances his two front feet against the floor, as if to say, “Well, don’t just stand there, come in already!”
I manage to step backward finally, my intention clear even if I haven’t found my voice.
Hailey walks into my apartment, her long legs silky in a pair of sheer hose, her tight skirt tempting me. She walks right over to the sofa, sets the coffee cups on the table and takes a seat. “Come here, Matt,” she says in a clear voice. “We need to talk.”
Well. Who’s schooling who these days? I do just as she asks, taking a seat at a respectful distance, giving her my full attention.
She hands me a cup of coffee and pops the lid on hers. “I know your wife told you that waiting around for you was torture. Well, I’m not Kara. My life is set up differently. And we’re not the same person. But there’s really no way I can predict the future.”
“I know,” I croak. “I’m probably an idiot for trying to.”
She lifts an eyebrow, but a smile hovers at the corners of her mouth. “You are, sir. But we’ll get back to that in a minute. I need to ask you something specific. Did your marriage end for any reason you haven’t told me?”
“No?” I try to imagine what that question might even mean. “She said she’d had it and asked me for a divorce. Seemed pretty straightforward to me.”
Hailey’s hands get fidgety on the rim of her coffee cup. “I spotted something that I think I should tell you, even though it feels selfish.”
Selfish? “Hailey, honey—you strike me as the least selfish person I’ve ever met.”
Her eyes lift to mine at this compliment. “Not so sure about that.” Our gazes lock, and her restraint falters a little. Her eyes turn begging, but then she gives her head a little shake as if to clear it. “You know I’ve been doing a lot of research on our client database.”
“Yeah. Trying to figure out if the expansion makes sense.”
“Good listening.” She gives me a sad smile. “Your wife’s account came up on my file search. She’s a long-time customer of Fetch.”
“Right. That’s how I knew about Fetch in the first place.”
She nods. “Well, Kara has a standing lunch date on Fridays.”
“Yeah, with her parents and the girls. God forbid they miss a Friday lunch with Grandpa and Grandma.”
“No, Matt.” Hailey bites her lip. “Kara goes out to lunch with Dr. Daniel Bryant every Friday at noon. They like Sassafras. But sometimes they mix it up at the Greenwich Bistro or the restaurant at the Drake Hotel.”
I try to picture it. “Okay. So they take the girls to their grandparents, and Kara and Dentist Dan eat out? I didn’t know that. But it makes sense, right? She wants a man who can keep a lunch date.”
Hailey sighs. “They’
re really good at keeping their lunch dates. They’ve been having them for over two years.”
“Over…” I do the math. “That doesn’t sound right.”
Silently she takes her phone out of her pocket and taps on an app. She taps again and scrolls. “I should probably fire myself for this indiscretion,” she mutters. Then she hands me the phone.
And it’s right there on the screen. Reservations going back two years. “They’re in his name. How stupid is my ex-wife? Jesus Christ.” I hand the phone back quickly because it’s tempting to crush it like a gum wrapper. “She cheated?”
“I don’t really know,” Hailey says quickly. “It might not have been like that originally.”
My head throbs suddenly and I rub my temples. “What am I missing?”
“Maybe nothing.” Hailey gets up and moves closer to me. She puts a warm hand on my back and strokes. Fuck, that feels good. I need her touch. “But I wondered about Kara and her dentist. Maybe the reason she convinced herself you weren’t a good partner was that she was in love with someone else.”
“Oh my God.” The last few months with her were so hard. Was there even a point to all the fighting we did? I was trying to save my marriage, and her demands grew by the day. Maybe it couldn’t be saved no matter what. “They…she went to a high school reunion. He was there. It was, I dunno, a year before I moved out.”
“They knew each other in high school?”
“She dated him. I don’t know the whole story.”
“Well…” Hailey hesitates. “I don’t know Kara, and I don’t want to guess what happened. But I thought you should know that maybe some missed nights at home weren’t the only problem.”
I cling to this idea. I love this fucking idea. I’m so tired of feeling like a jerk and a failure. “My head is kind of exploding here.”
She puts a hand on the back of my neck and gives the muscles a nice squeeze. “I know. I didn’t know what to do with that information. It’s really none of my business.”
“Sure it is.” I look at her, and all the hesitation is back in her expression. And that’s my fault. “I want it to be your business, Hottie. I really freaked out last night. But staying away from you was never going to work.”