by Sarina Bowen
What a dick, right? With either contract, I would make more money than most people made in a lifetime.
“Things are good, honey. You’re mostly healthy, and you’re entering your eleventh year of major-league play. Your coach appreciates you and your teammates do, too.”
Mostly healthy. My recent shoulder injury was going to weigh on my general manager’s mind. He was probably worried about a recurrence. Fuck, I hated having a weakness.
“You’re a lucky man, Davey,” my sister said.
“I know,” I said, eyeing the door of the coffee shop, wondering if Leo was ready to go. Grumpy now, I wasn’t interested in spending a couple of my rich-guy bucks on a cup of coffee and a cookie. “I’ll think it over, Bess.”
“Don’t brood.”
“I won’t,” I said, laughing. “Promise.”
“Did you make it to your PT appointment today?”
“Of course I did. You don’t have to nag.”
She made a clicking noise with her tongue. “Fine. Go enjoy your vacation.”
“You could join us, you know,” I pointed out. “If you get a free weekend, grab a flight from Detroit to Burlington. There’s one every day. I checked. And we have room.”
“I would if I could. But there are fires to put out and deals to make.”
Summer was her busy season, which was half the reason we never saw each other. Summer was my only time off. “Take care of yourself.”
“Love you, too. Later!” Click.
I pictured my sister in her Michigan office, her headset on. She’d undoubtedly clicked off my call and directly onto another one. Always busy, that one. She was three years younger than I. And even if the prospect of someday retiring from hockey gave me the cold sweats, the one benefit would be spending more time with my only family member.
Leo came out of the coffee shop eating a cookie. “Hey!” he said with a smile. “You need one of these. I’m not sharing.”
“I’m not into sweets.”
“You say that, but you haven’t tasted this. It’s oatmeal raisin.” He took a sip from the cup in his other hand. “And the coffee is killer.”
“You ready?” I said, too grumpy about Bess’s news to care about coffee.
Leo stopped a few feet from the car. “You’re seriously not going in there?”
I shook my head.
He frowned. “I think you should.”
“Why is that?”
“Well…” He glanced at the door of the coffee shop and smiled mysteriously. “Can you maybe just trust me on this? Go inside and buy a coffee.”
“Why?”
Leo shrugged and gave me that weird smile again. “I’m willing to let you think I’m insane. Just go. The shop is really cool, anyway. You should see it.”
That was a lot of pressure from the rookie. I was irritated, but intrigued. Somehow my feet pointed toward the door of The Busy Bean, and I walked away from him.
A bell on the door jingled when I walked inside the lodge-like building. And Leo had been right about one thing—it was cool in here. The coffee shop had big old leaded-glass windows looking out on the river, and antique mismatched tables and chairs arranged on wide, pine floorboards.
The style was both comfortable and a little wacky. The walls were painted a warm brick color, but the beams were black like a chalkboard—and someone had spent a lot of time decorating them with cartoon figures of coffee drinkers and sayings. The one I spotted first read: “Unattended children will be given a double espresso and a special-needs puppy.”
Hilarious.
The coffee bar itself was topped with a thick, zinc counter that looked like something out of one of Brooklyn’s hipster cafes. And there were glass display cases filled with cookies and pastries.
But then I glanced across the room and forgot all about the decor. Because Zara was right there behind the counter. The moment I recognized the sweep of her hair against her long neck, my body flushed with unexpected heat. Then she turned, and I could see her face.
And, wow. She was just as beautiful as I remembered. No—more. The late afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows made her expression gentler than I remembered it. Her thick hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she was humming while she stacked paper cups beside the cash register. She looked…softer than the last time I’d seen her. The word lush came to mind.
“Zara—no way!” I sputtered, too surprised to be casual. I crossed quickly to the counter, and she lifted her eyes. “I’m back in town, and I looked for you at The Mountain Goat.” The second I arrived in Vermont, I might have added. “Didn’t know you worked here now. We should exchange numbers.”
That’s when I noticed her face going pale. Her eyes widened, and her mouth gaped open. It was clear that she recognized me. But a long beat went by before she said anything. And when she finally did, it wasn’t what I expected. “Do you…have a b-business card?”
“Uh, sure?” I dug into my wallet and pulled one out. I handed it over automatically, still trying to figure out why she was looking at me as if she’d seen a ghost. I was still good at two things in life—scoring goals and reading people. And what I saw on Zara’s face didn’t make any sense to me.
Fear.
I didn’t get a chance to figure it out, because she took my card and turned from me. Then she walked quickly away, disappearing out a side door I hadn’t noticed before. It slammed shut behind her.
For a second I just stood there like an idiot, wondering what the hell had happened. And if she was going to come back.
“Can I help you?” asked another voice.
“Um…” It took me a beat to turn to face the other woman. She was a pretty blonde who wore a smile, but was also sneaking looks at the door where Zara had just disappeared. “Well, sure?” It took me another moment to shake off my stupor. “I’ll have a small French roast.”
A minute later she put a cup of coffee in my hand. She looked a little familiar, and I was sure I’d seen her somewhere before. I handed her a five-dollar bill and instructed her to keep the change. Then I left by the front door.
Leo was leaning against the rental car, sipping his coffee. “Back so soon? Wasn’t it her? I heard the blonde call the dark-haired beauty ‘Zara,’ and I thought I’d found your girl.”
I weighed the car key in my palm, still trying to process the odd interaction I’d just had. “It was her. But she didn’t look too happy to see me.”
Leo’s face fell. “Shit. I’m sorry, man.”
So was I. But I was also really freaking curious. “Can we take a walk for a minute?”
“Of course.” He shoved the rest of his cookie into his mouth and followed me as I headed toward the river bank that was visible between the bar and the coffee shop. These buildings had obviously been part of an old mill. They were situated to take advantage of the river below.
The river bank was a well-kept piece of land, the neatly mown grass stretching to the distant waterline. There were clumps of flowers planted here and there. Once we reached the river, we turned to walk along the bank.
The water curved around groups of rocks in its center. And, in the distance, an angler wearing waders cast his line into the shallows.
When the river hooked around to the right, I got a new vista. And sure enough, the most beautiful sight in Vermont was about fifty yards away. Zara sat on a bench alone, her chin tipped downward as she studied the business card in her hand.
“There she is,” Leo whispered.
“Yeah. She asked me for my card and then bolted out the door.”
Leo stopped walking. “That’s kinda weird.”
“No kidding.” It didn’t make a lick of sense.
He put a hand on my shoulder. “I’m going to have a seat.” He pointed at a flat rock on the riverbank. “I’ll check in with Georgia. You can try to talk to Zara, maybe?”
“Yeah. I’ll do that.” Usually I didn’t chase after women who didn’t want to see me. But the way she was studying my card�
�as if the secrets of the universe were written there—definitely piqued my curiosity.
I made my way across the lawn. She hadn’t spotted me yet. By design, there was very little on that card I’d given her—just a business email address that my sister checked on my behalf, and a phone number that went to Bess’s office. It was a card designed to blow off people who didn’t deserve my private attention. I would have given Zara my real number to add to the card, but she’d run away before I got the chance.
I slowed my steps as I approached, because she seemed so lost inside her own head. “Hey there.”
She startled, and when she turned that gorgeous face up in my direction, her eyes looked damp.
I stopped a few feet shy of the bench, not wanting to crowd someone who looked so shaken up. “Are you okay?”
Zara swallowed hard. “No. Not really.” Trust Zara to answer that question honestly.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Do you want me to go away?”
Slowly she shook her head. “I need you to sit down for a minute. Unless you’re dashing off somewhere.”
“I’ve got some time,” I said slowly.
She took a deep breath, which came out shaky. “This won’t take long. Sit down.”
I sat.
“Didn’t expect to see you walk into my coffee shop today. It was a shock.” Her slim hands pressed my business card between them, and I was taken back in time two years. I’d had those hands all over my body, their comforting sweep across my chest after we’d made love. I’d never enjoyed anyone so much as I’d enjoyed her. Not before, and not since.
But something was wrong now. I could feel it.
“Is that your coffee shop?” I asked, trying to bring myself back to the present. “You don’t manage the Goat for your uncle anymore?”
She looked up quickly. “Good memory.”
“Who could forget?” I smiled at her, hoping to diffuse whatever tension was eating at her.
It didn’t work, though. If anything, her face only became more serious. “I don’t tend bar anymore because I need to be home at night. The coffee shop’s hours are a better schedule.”
“I’ll bet.” A sweet breeze drifted off the river, chasing tendrils of her hair across her face, and I itched to reach out and sweep them away. But something held me back.
“Look,” Zara said, reaching into her pocket for her phone. “I need to tell you something.”
Even then, I didn’t see it coming.
She tapped on the screen. Then she took a deep breath and looked me square in the eye. “This is Nicole. She’s fifteen months old.”
Even though my brain wasn’t doing the math yet, I took the phone. On the screen was a photo of a baby clutching a blanket. She had hair the color of a copper penny.
Just like mine had been when I was small.
That’s when I understood. My throat closed up suddenly. The world went a little haywire, and I heard the sound of my pulse in my ears. “You…” I stuttered. “You can’t mean…” My stomach bottomed out. I pushed the phone toward Zara as if I could make the truth disappear just by avoiding that photo.
“I’m so…” She made an audible gulping sound. “Sorry. Springing it on you…” She swallowed with difficulty. “I never thought I’d see you again. Didn’t even know who you were.”
“But it’s not possible.” My mind spun. A child. A child? This could not be happening. “We used condoms.” Even as the words left my mouth, I knew how stupid they sounded. Condoms failed all the time.
Zara’s expression darkened. “Sure we used them. Mostly.”
Goosebumps broke out across my back. “Okay,” I said slowly, still trying to catch up. This had never happened to me before. Or really to anyone I knew. I remembered that once a teammate had been in a situation like this, but it had turned out to be a false alarm. “So…” I swallowed hard. Think. What would Bess do right now? “I, uh, have a lawyer. He’ll know about paternity suits. DNA tests. I’m gonna call him.” Just saying those words made me feel cold everywhere. I could not be someone’s father. What an insane idea.
Beside me, Zara made a small noise of surprise. “I don’t need your lawyer,” she sputtered. “I’m not suing anyone. That’s not why I’m telling you this.”
“Why then?” I asked without thinking.
Her eyes got wide. “Because it’s the right thing to do. I spent nearly two years fending off my family’s questions. I wouldn’t tell them who her father was, because nobody had a right to know before you did.” She stood up quickly. “You’re welcome.”
While my mouth was still hanging open, she got up and ran off, disappearing into the trees.
Chapter Ten
Zara
I ran home as if someone had lit a fire under my ass. The motion helped shake off my tension and terror. Lengthening my strides, I ran along the road until I came back to my brother’s property. Running felt different now than it had before I became a mother. For starters, there was more of me than there used to be. As I neared The Gin Mill, I crossed my arms under my breasts to stop the bouncing.
So many things had changed in the last two years. And now I was terrified that another tectonic shift was underway, and I hadn’t seen it coming.
Breathing hard, I went around to the side of The Gin Mill building, where the private entrance was. But after I let myself in the door, I stood there at the bottom of the stairs, taking deep breaths. My mother was upstairs with Nicole, and they were expecting me. But I couldn’t go up there and panic in front of my child. And I was too stunned to level with my mother.
I sat down on the third stair and tried to calm down. The business card was still in my hand, so I studied it one more time.
David Beringer
The Brooklyn Bruisers
There was a line-drawing of a hockey stick and a puck. And a phone number and an email address. Benito—after all his efforts to help me search for Dave—would be fascinated to know how the hell my onetime hookup actually spelled his last name.
How unreal it felt to be holding this information in my hand. When I’d woken up this morning, it was with the belief that I’d never see Dave again. The moment before he’d walked into the coffee shop, my mind was on a dozen other things.
The last person I expected to see today was the one whose green eyes could always stare right through me. For a second there, I hadn’t even trusted my eyes. Two years. That’s how long it had been since I’d seen him last.
That first fall, when I was pregnant, I used to look for him in crowds. Whenever the door to The Mountain Goat opened during my bartending shifts, I’d felt a little flutter of expectation. I’d scan the men entering the bar, looking for a flash of red-brown hair and a sexy smile.
It never came. And eventually I’d stopped looking. Switching jobs broke me of the habit. I finally accepted that he wasn’t coming back, and I made my peace with it.
My family never did, though. They hated that I kept the details to myself. My older brothers and two Italian-American uncles—they all wanted to know whom to kill. Everyone wanted to take a piece out of the guy who’d “knocked me up,” as my uncles put it.
That phrase made me want to scream.
Dave had gone, and even Benito—my only confidante—hadn’t been able to find him. All we had was a first name, my crappy memory’s feeble attempts at his last name, and Brooklyn.
There are two and a half million people in Brooklyn. Quite a few Daves, too.
And anyway, getting pregnant by a stranger had been a pretty stupid thing to do. But it was my stupid thing. I forgot about Dave. Or—even if I couldn’t truly forget him—I’d stopped expecting him to reappear. As time wore on, I’d made my peace with the idea that he’d never know his child, and that a surprise child wouldn’t be welcome.
Seems I was right about that last thing.
Here I sat in the stairwell, going a little insane, while upstairs my child waited for the parent who loved her.
I stood up, shoving the business
card in my pocket, and took one more deep breath. Then I climbed the stairs to the second floor. I opened the door to my brother’s mostly finished dwelling to find my mother seated at my kitchen table with Nicole in the clamp-on chair. There were Cheerios and carefully cut-up grapes on the plastic mat in front of the baby.
“Mama’s home!” my mother sang as I stepped into the room. “Say, ‘Hi, Mama!’”
My baby girl opened her mouth and shrieked with joy.
“That also works,” Mom said with a laugh.
Even though Nicole was fifteen months old, she hadn’t spoken yet. I was starting to get worried, honestly. But the pediatrician said to wait a few more months before panicking.
The sight of my daughter’s face relaxed me. The tension I’d been carrying in my shoulders fell away as I walked across the room to kiss her on the top of the head. She lifted chubby arms to me, and I glanced at my mother. “Did she eat enough?”
“This one always does,” Mom said cheerily.
I tucked my hands under Nicole’s arms and pulled her up to hug her. Since it was summertime, bare toes wiggled happily against my waist. “Hi, lady,” I whispered. “Did you take a good nap for Grandma?”
“Goodish,” my mother said. “Forty-five minutes.”
“Ah, well.” She’d be grumpy later, but then pass out promptly at bedtime. “Thank you,” I said to my mom. “You were a lifesaver today.”
“Stressful day?” she asked.
“Yeah.” You have no idea. But Mom was referring to the fact that The Busy Bean had lost electrical power that morning. Audrey and I had spent the day worrying about our refrigerated goods and leaning on friends for help. The problem hadn’t been resolved until an hour ago.
Silly me, I’d thought a power outage would be the most stressful thing that could have happened today. Then Dave showed up.
I felt like a jerk for not telling Mom about Dave’s sudden reappearance. The card he’d given me was burning a hole in my pocket. But I wasn’t ready to talk about it. I’d just given that man the shock of a lifetime, after he’d given me the same by walking into my coffee shop.