“It’s not because of me. I picked up this lasagna at Tony’s,” she says of the to-die-for Italian restaurant we frequent. She puts on the oven mitts and turns around and looks at me. “So?”
“So?” I sit on the stool at the island.
“What did you decide to do?” she asks me, standing in front of me.
“Was there even a decision?” I tell her. “Honestly, how can I say no?”
“I knew you wouldn’t the minute Max told me the story.”
She smiles. “It’s so sad.”
“It is, and like I told him, I can’t guarantee anything, but I can guarantee I’ll do whatever I can for him.”
“And that, my favorite sister-in-law”—I laugh and roll my eyes—“is why you’re the best at your job.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say and then look down. “I hope I can save him.”
“If anyone can, it’s you,” she says, and I just nod my head. “And off topic,” she says quietly, looking over my shoulder to see that it is just the two of us, “his eyes are to die for.” She starts to laugh and then stops when she sees Max standing at the entrance of the kitchen.
“What is to die for?” he asks, glaring at his wife with my niece in his arms, perfectly content to be on his hip. I get up from the stool.
“I’ll go set the table.” I smile at him, and he glares back at me. “By the way, I need to kick your ass for ambushing me.”
“I know,” he says, looking at Alex, who looks up at him and smiles. Drool comes out of her mouth, landing on her I love my dad bib. I reach out for her, and she starts to fuss. “She’s teething,” he tries to tell me.
“She’s been teething since she was born,” I tell him, and he brings her head to his chest. “Leave her alone. I leave tomorrow, so I need all the cuddle times.” He looks at her, and she smacks his chest with her fist. “Isn’t that right, princess?”
“Fine, have her; it’ll only be a matter of time before she’s calling her cool aunt Denise to complain about what a drag her father is,” I tell him over my shoulder, walking to the dining room to set the table.
Zack comes in. “What can I do to help?” he asks me, and I hand him the forks.
“Where are the boys?” I ask him, and he puts the forks down, walking around the table to each place setting.
“Playing Hot Wheels,” he says, and then I watch him. “He didn’t really have friends back in Arizona.”
“Really? How come?” I ask, unsure whether it’s the right thing to ask.
“His mother isn’t someone you get along with easily.” He looks at me, and I take in his face; his cheekbones are defined perfectly, his nose a touch crooked, no doubt from being broken a time or two. “He has had a nanny since he was born. She would try to bring him to the park, but then he would come home dirty, and Chantal would go mental.”
“She sounds delightful,” I say and then catch myself ready to apologize when he throws his head back and laughs.
“That’s a good one,” he says to me, and I expect him to be mad. “My mother saw it early on that Chantal didn’t have the ‘motherly touch’”—he uses his fingers to make air quotes—“but I just brushed it off till I saw it for myself when she got mad at him for spilling grape juice on the white rug.”
“Oh, dear,” I say, thinking she would hate my rug, which has coffee stains, Coke stains, and very recently, vodka cranberry stains.
He shrugs his shoulders. “I wish I could say it got easier, but it didn’t. She didn’t cope well with Jack being sick and never ever wanted him to take his hat off in public.” He shakes his head, and I have this sudden hatred for a woman I have never met.
“I’m sure she had her strong suits.” I try to be positive.
“Yeah, no one can rack up an AmEx bill quite like she could.” He laughs. “We were married for ten years, so I should be sad it’s over, right?” He looks at me, and I have this sudden urge to go to him, to hug him, to hold his hand, to take care of him. I don’t know what their story is, but at this point, I don’t care. My main focus is Jack.
“Dinner’s ready.” I hear Allison yell from the kitchen. The kids run into the dining room, and Michael looks over at Jack.
“You can sit next to me.” He points at the chair as he climbs up on it.
“Yeah,” Jack says, and I watch him look at Michael and laugh. “Is it spaghetti? I love spaghetti.”
“Me too,” Michael says, “but I think it’s lasagna.”
“Daddy.” Jack looks up at Zack. “Do I like lasagna?”
He goes to his son and kisses his cheek. “Yeah, buddy, you do.”
I watch him doting on his son and always keeping an eye on him. I watch him making the most of every single moment he is with him. I watch him and pray that I can save him.
Chapter Four
Zack
“Jack kiddo, come give Dad a kiss. I have to head to the rink,” I yell up the stairs, waiting to hear his footsteps.
He comes down the steps one at a time holding the railing with Sarah following him close behind. I wait for him, and he jumps into my arms and kisses my lips. “Are you coming back?” he asks me, spotting my overnight bag at the door.
“I’ll be back tomorrow night.” I squeeze him and bury my face in his neck, taking in his smell.
“Your beard is itchy.” He giggles then squirms to get out of my arms.
“Jack, go get the books out. We will have reading time,” Sarah tells him, and he walks to the living room, pulling out the bucket of books that she brought over.
“The emergency numbers are on the fridge. My cell phone is always going to be on even when I’m on the ice,” I tell her, and I thank fuck that this team that welcomed me with open arms is being so good about this whole transition. “He has no allergies, and he hasn’t had a fever in over a month. At the first signs of fever, you are to take him in. I know I’m repeating myself, but ...” I smile at her
“Yes, Mr. Morrow.” She smiles at me. “I have it under control, and if there are any questions, I will call you.”
“Perfect.” I smile at her and then turn and look in at Jack sitting on the carpet on his knees while he flips the pages of the book. “I’ll FaceTime you tonight,” I tell him, and he smiles when I walk out to climb into the waiting Uber.
When I get to the arena, I walk in and make my way to the locker room to drop off my bag. I shrug out of my coat and then start to undress and put on my gear. Placing my left foot in my skate feels almost like going home. I’ve always loved to skate; if you ask my mother, I was skating before I was walking.
“Hello, boys.” I hear from the door and look over to see a man who looks like he is GQ ready. “No need to hide the frank and berries; I’ve seen it all.” He laughs, making me chuckle. “I see fresh meat.” He winks at me, and Matthew groans as he walks in.
“Olivier, go easy. He has no idea you’re joking,” he says, dumping his bag down in front of me.
“Who says I’m joking?” he says and stands there in his gray fitted suit, a bit short at the ankles where he wears blue and gray colored socks. He folds one arm and then places his other hand on his chin. “I have lots to work with.”
“Don’t make eye contact,” Phil, the assistant to the team, leans over and whispers. “Find something on the floor and just stare it down.”
I look down, lace up my skates, and get up. “Jesus, he’s all that and a bag of chips.” I laugh and slip my jersey on before going up to him.
“I’m Zack.” I put one glove on and put the other under my arm while I shake his hand.
“Zack, I’m Olivier. I’m the team PR,” he says, grabbing my hand and shaking it longer than necessary. “Oh, big hands. I like it.”
“Dear god,” Max says, coming in. “Can we tone down the flirting? It’s not even noon.”
Olivier gasps and then turns to him. “I don’t flirt; this is my natural charm.”
“Great,” I say, looking at my hand still in his hand. “Can I speak with you privately?”<
br />
“Ha. You heard it, boys.” He turns around. “He wants me privately.” He smiles and walks by, swinging his hips. “You better not tell Steve a word,” he says over his shoulder to Max, and I have to wonder if Steve is his boyfriend.
When we get into the hallway, he looks at me expectantly, and I hand him my cell phone. “This is my cell phone.”
“You want me to program my number in it?” he asks with a smile.
I laugh and shake my head. “No. My son is sick. He has cancer,” I tell him, and he stands taller now, his eyes watering. “Not many people know, but I have to be on call if something happens.”
“Don’t say another word,” he says and takes my phone. “I am going to program my number in it but give it to your wife in case she can’t reach you on yours.”
“Yeah, I also need a divorce lawyer. You wouldn’t know anyone, would you?” I ask him, and he throws his head back and groans.
“Jesus, you’re going to keep me on my toes, aren’t you?” he says, and I’m not sure how to answer him. “This is what I get for not reading your file yet.”
I put my glove on, nodding at him. “How about we sit down, and I can go over everything that you need to know?” I put my helmet on, walking away from him.
“It’s a date,” he says and winks at me, turning and walking down the hall. I turn and make my way to the ice. When I skate, I almost forget that my life is all over the place.
We run drills as I work with Nathan, the other defenseman; we get into the groove, talk about how to do plays and who is going to be taking the one timers. I have the hardest shot in the NHL, and it’s not just me saying it. I won the award at the last five all-star games. When I finally skate off the ice and walk down the hallway to the locker room, Olivier is there with my phone. “No news,” he says and then turns and yells, “Okay, ladies, we leave in one hour!”
I take off my helmet and put it in the hockey bag in front of my chair as I undress. Getting ready to leave, I walk to the bus outside, sending Sarah a message, and she answers right away with a picture of Jack eating carrots and broccoli.
I walk on the bus and sit down, and Max comes in and sits next to me. “What is your number?” he asks me. I give him my number to put in his phone.
“Don’t send me dick pics,” I joke, and he shakes his head.
“It was for Denise,” he tells me, and I look back at my phone, waiting for a call or a message.
“Is she going to call me?” I ask him, and he looks at me and shrugs.
“No clue. She just asked me for your number,” he tells me and then puts on his earphones and I put on my own and open my iPad, looking for any new articles about ALL.
We make it on the plane, and I sit by myself; Max and Matthew sit together as they go over their foundation stuff. Max started the foundation to help the children in need from the hospital. Every year it just grows bigger and bigger.
I have to turn the phone off, but my Wi-Fi stays open on my iPad with my iMessages.
The plane takes off and my iMessage alerts me to a message from a strange number. I look down and see it’s a two one two number.
Hey, it’s Denise. This is my email address for Jack’s file to be sent over as soon as you get a chance. I know you’re on the road till tomorrow, but I would also like to speak with his doctor if possible.
Safe flight and kick ass on the ice. Take care of my brother; he’s getting soft in his old age.
DON’T TELL HIM I SAID THAT.
I laugh and message her back after I email his doctor and nurse for his file and also ask them what the best contact number is. Then I message her back.
Hey, it’s Zack. I just sent an email to his doctors for his file and also their contact number.
I’ll try my best to protect your brother, but he does piss off a lot of people.
I press send, then go back to reading an article that was just published. She answers me back.
Isn’t that the truth.
I don’t answer her; instead, I rest my head back and close my eyes. I don’t expect to fall asleep, but I do, and when the plane’s wheels touch the ground, I’m startled awake. I look down at the iPad to see that I haven’t missed any messages. When the plane stops, the first thing I do is turn my phone back on and put it in my pocket and grab my stuff. The hotel check-in is the same for every team. I’m getting my key from Olivier, and he stops me. “Check your email. I just sent you a name and number.” I nod at him, not asking for more. When I finally open the door to my room, I take in the king-size bed and small desk. I dump my bag on the desk and open my email.
From: Olivier Wilson
To: Zack Morrow
Subject: Lawyer Number
Here is everything that you need. Tell them I sent you and you should be good to go.
Liliane Spencer 212-347-2233
I dial the number right away, and the receptionist connects me right away.
“Mr. Morrow.” The voice comes through.
“Ms. Spencer,” I answer, “I got your number from Olivier.”
“I know. He already gave me the heads-up,” she starts. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m looking for a divorce lawyer,” I start and take a big inhale. “I’d like to file for divorce.” No matter how many times I say it, I expect myself to feel something, but I don’t.
“Okay,” she says and then switches me to speakerphone. “I need to ask some questions.”
“Go ahead.”
“Was there a prenup?” she asks.
“Yes. Thank god, my father insisted on it,” I answer, and she doesn’t beat around the bush
“Good, that will work. She might just ask for more alimony.”
“I don’t give a shit; the only thing I want is sole custody of our son.”
“Mr. Morrow, the court usually expects the parents to share custody especially with your travel schedule.”
“My son has cancer.” No matter how many times I say that, I still get sick to my stomach.
“Where is the child now?” she asks, and the rustling of papers has stopped.
“Jack,” I say, “is with me in New York. She was having an affair with my teammate. The last time we spoke, she told me to sell the house. She’s been without our son for one week now and hasn’t made one fucking phone call to see how he is.”
“This is something we can work with,” she says. “Did you guys have joint properties?”
“Only the house,” I tell her. “Everything else is in my name and acquired before marriage,” I say of the summer house that I have in Kelowna, British Columbia, where we are both from. “Even my stock portfolio is covered thanks to the prenup.”
“So basically, it’s only community property,” she says. “Will she fight for custody?” she asks me.
“I don’t think so. She hasn’t done anything with him in over a year. She said she was emotionally distressed about him getting cancer, so she checked out, in more ways than one.”
“Let me draw something up,” she says. “Does she have a lawyer?”
“I have no clue,” I answer honestly. “Like I said, the last time I spoke with her, she was walking out of the house after I caught her in our bed with her lover.”
“Send me over her name, and we will have her served tomorrow.”
“Perfect,” I say. “You can bill me. My parents take care of all my paperwork, my mother actually.” I laugh, but my mother has always been my manager of sorts from the very beginning. It just made things easier for us, just like having everything in Dad’s name for him to make business decisions for me.
“Mr. Morrow, were you also having an affair?” she asks. “In order for me to represent you to the best of my ability, I need to know about all the skeletons in your closet.”
“Ms. Spencer, I was dedicated to my wife and my son. Did I love her? Probably not in the past couple of months. Was she a good mother? Fuck, no. Was she great eye candy? She sure was. My focus for the past year has been Jack and making sure
that he lived to his sixth birthday.”
“I understand,” she says. “I just don’t want to get blindsided.”
“There is nothing for me to hide,” I tell her, and it’s the truth.
“I’ll let you know once she has been served,” she says and disconnects. I toss the phone on the bed and rub my forehead, feeling a headache slowly creeping up.
I lay my head down on the white pillow, kicking off my shoes. My phone beeps, so I grab it and see a text from Denise.
Just got the file. We should meet once you’re back. Let me know when it’s a good time.
I don’t bother messaging her. Instead, I call her.
“Hey,” she says, picking up right away.
“Hey, I just got your message,” I tell her.
“What’s the matter?” she asks right away.
“Nothing. Why?” I ask her.
“You sound like you’re exhausted or pissed,” she says, and I laugh.
“You got all that in hey I got your message?”
“Yeah,” she says, and I hear rustling in the background. “How is Jack?”
“He’s good. I hate leaving him, but it’s the way it is. He has a nurse with him at all times. Sarah,” I tell her. “You’ll meet her when we come in. She will be the one bringing him to appointments if I’m not around.”
“Perfect,” she says. “You think she can bring him in tomorrow morning so we could do a couple of blood tests and see his T-cell count?”
“Yeah,” I tell her, “I’ll have a car service bring them in. Did you get everything you needed?”
“I did. I’m going to read through it tonight. I’ll tell them that he is coming in so to expect him,” she says.
“Will you be there?” I ask her.
“I’m not on duty tomorrow,” she tells me, “but I think I’m going to go in anyway just so he isn’t scared.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know I don’t have to. I want to. There is a difference. I want Jack to be comfortable with me and the hospital.”
“Okay, I’ll tell her.”
“Just tell her to come up to the third floor. I’ll be there, and if he doesn’t see me, ask her to have me paged.”
Something So Unscripted Page 3