Chapter 14
Zaila
That night at the awards banquet, Gunnar and I won the scavenger hunt and, awkwardly enough, a two-night stay at a five-star luxury resort in San Antonio. But when our names were announced, he’d already disappeared.
I learned later that he’d flown back to Houston on his private jet, much like a little boy would race home, but, well, richer and more ostentatiously, leaving me to look even worse in front of my colleagues.
For the remainder of the two-day retreat, Jay vacillated between glee and attempted commiseration that people were gossiping about me trying—and failing—to seduce Gunnar.
And just like he’d disappeared from the retreat, Gunnar withdrew quickly and completely from my work life when we returned to the office.
I never even had a chance to ask him what he’d said to Jay.
Perhaps that was for the best, and at least the overt gossip died down after the retreat was over, though everyone still seemed a bit distant and distrustful.
But my hurt at Gunnar’s abrupt dismissal of me festered.
So I threw myself into my job. Despite the moment I’d thought we had during the storm, the man had made it clear he didn’t enjoy my company or respect me enough to explain why he no longer wanted to be seen with me—though I was pretty sure he knew about the gossip and part of me wondered if he was trying to protect me.
Still, I’d have preferred an honest and thoughtful conversation.
Heck, just a text explaining his position would have been welcome.
Such authenticity was essential to me; I’d watched my parents discuss most decisions, and my father was always attentive and listened to my mother’s reasons.
He treated her as an equal, and I would settle for nothing less than a true partnership in my own life.
While I spent two weeks worrying over Gunnar’s withdrawal and my coworkers’ tittered conversations and long stares while they kept their distance—all except Tim, who’d become my friend and champion—I also had the long-put-off lunch with the CATS.
One afternoon Naomi Kramer, Ida Jane Dolov, Keelie Bouchard, Vivian almost-Cruz, and Paloma Whittaker walked into my office and surrounded me, herding me out of the building and into a waiting SUV, driven by another hockey wife, Millie Stol.
They took me downtown to a well-known Italian bistro and plopped me into a chair.
The best part was them all cupping their chins around the table and staring at me like I was a butterfly pinned to a display board.
“Spill,” Naomi said. She was married to Coach Adam Kramer and one of the original CATS. I’d noted that the others looked to her as a leader.
“What? That you abducted me?”
“Pssh. That wasn’t even close to an abduction,” Ida Jane cut in. “But now that I think about it, we should try that sometime. Keelie’s so good with her golf clubs—”
“Hush, Ida Jane. You’re scaring her,” Paloma said.
She was older than the other women by a few years and had a Zen quality that reminded me of my mother. She was also married to the head coach, Silas Whittaker, so she held a lot of sway—Ida Jane hushed.
I blinked as I considered Mom’s recent return to declining.
She’d perked up for a while after I moved in with her, but that wasn’t holding as a long-term trend.
I’d come into the kitchen last Saturday and found her at the round oak table that had been scrubbed nearly white.
Her eyes were dull, her hair lifeless, and her back bent.
This had to be more than continued grief.
But when I asked, she hadn’t been willing to tell me anything, just said she was seeing her doctor.
Her current state nibbled constantly at the edges of my consciousness, making concentrating difficult.
“I’m curious,” Vivian said with a shy smile, smoothing her red hair back from her face.
She had freckles across her nose that made her look soft and friendly, and her eyes smiled even before her lips quirked.
I knew, deep in my bones, that I liked this woman.
She seemed like someone I could get close to.
I didn’t know much about her story, or even her last name, just that she was engaged to Lennon Cruz, the big, gruff D-man who seemed to be a second team captain to Cormac Bouchard.
I suspected it was his emotional intelligence that earned him players’ respect, but I didn’t fully understand him yet.
I just knew I’d liked him the few times we’d spoken.
“We’re all curious,” Naomi said, leaning forward.
My palms began to sweat. “I can’t imagine why you’re interested in me.”
“Well,” Keelie said. She set her chin on her palms, and her big engagement ring flashed. Cormac had made quite a statement with her jewelry, and from what I’d read and seen, those two were madly in love. “Gunnar likes you. Like, a lot.”
I scoffed, an instinctive reaction that caused Ida Jane to wag her finger. “Honey, I saw it with my own eyes. That man is enamored.”
“He sure is, and I heard about the canoodling at the retreat.” Naomi’s eyes sparkled. “And I have to know how good that was.”
I swallowed, my throat dry and my eyes and nose stinging. “There’s nothing between Mr. Evaldson and me. I earned my position. In fact, Lydia hired me, and I’d never met Mr. Evaldson until the day I dumped soda all over him—”
Vivian rubbed my forearm while Paloma reached across the table and patted my hand. “Forgive Naomi. She has a tendency to think everyone’s as forward as she is,” Paloma said.
“For what it’s worth, we were all hoping for canoodling,” Millie explained.
She was quiet, one of those who watched interactions before jumping in.
That seemed to balance out Luka Stol’s impetuousness.
The league sportscasters had commented on how levelheaded he’d been on the ice since marrying and the birth of his daughter.
“Gunnar is way kinder and much lonelier than the world realizes.”
Vivian pulled back her hand and resettled in her chair.
“It’s because we care about him so much that we want to get to know you,” Paloma said. “He’s a good man who has developed an influential organization, and we want to see him happy.”
“And you do that,” Ida Jane said, clapping her hands and looking every inch the cheerleader she must have been in high school.
“Don’t pressure her, Idge,” Millie murmured.
“No pressure,” Keelie said. “Just…affection and interest.”
“Also, once we adopt you as a CAT, you’re one of us for life,” Paloma added.
I forced a smile as I ran my finger down the menu and swallowed. These women were kind, open, and interested—so unlike the current office dynamic where everyone avoided me…so they could talk about me. What did I have to lose? “I’m attracted to him,” I said softly.
Hoots followed.
“I sense a but,” Ida Jane said.
“But he told me he’d never get involved with an employee, and I respect that.”
“Oh, pish. He’s just being rigid,” Paloma said.
“And it’s clear he wants more,” Vivian whispered. She offered a smile. “I may be one of the newer CATS, but I’ve seen how Gunnar lights up when he talks about you. His eyes go…”
“Warm,” Millie finished.
The waiter walked over, dropping off waters and taking orders. I was so overwhelmed that I requested what Vivian had chosen, without understanding what it was.
“We’re here to support you and your relationship with Gunnar,” Paloma said. “Whatever you need, you can come to us.”
“Not only will we make your dreams come true—like sexy, smart fairy godmothers—we’ll offer a shoulder or an ear when Gunnar undoubtedly does something stupid,” Naomi added.
“Because he’s a man.” Paloma sighed.
“And these men, especially hyper-competitive men, are ridiculous when it comes to feelings,” Ida Jane added.
“I…” Dropping my gaze to my lap, I decided to take the leap of faith.
I missed having someone to talk to. For a long time I’d been so close to my parents that I hadn’t needed many friends my own age, but that wasn’t the same anymore.
These women were all interested in me. Their care was genuine, and they wanted Gunnar and me to succeed.
Though I wasn’t sure what I wanted. Everything had been so tense and weird since the team-building retreat that I was desperate for advice.
So I spilled every detail of my time with Gunnar, from Lydia’s resignation to my karaoke evening, to waiting out the storm in the planting shed and Jay’s strange and snarky behavior. I even told them about my mother’s illness and my need to help her.
Vivian turned out to be an oncology nurse who cared for Lennon Cruz’s mother.
She made me a list of questions to ask my mom, and Ida Jane probed a bit—no doubt psycho-analyzing me, as she was a therapist—while the rest of the women offered encouragement and insights into Gunnar’s life.
They said he was a workaholic who always managed to make time for his players and their families but seemed to hold himself apart from the exuberant get-togethers Cormac and Keelie liked to host.
By the time I finished my salad topped with the most delicious salmon, I was full and flush with that good feeling of friendship. “I need to get back to the office—”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Paloma said, all business as she signed for lunch. I offered to pay, but she waved me off. “It’s something we do whenever we can get the Glam Team together. Too bad Hana’s presenting her rocket design this week.”
“That’s Paxton Naese’s wife. She’s an actual rocket scientist,” Vivian said. “These women are all amazing. And so kind. I can’t believe I get to be part of this group. Much as I love Lennon—and I do with every fiber of my being—being part of the CATS is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
I returned her smile. I could already see what she meant.
“Now that that’s settled, we’re going to get our nails done for tomorrow’s game,” Naomi said.
“You must join us. Oooh! You could use it as part of the social media campaign to show off how the hockey partners support and cheer on our players. That is, if you want to. We’d have so much fun.
Even though Adam’s now a coach, I wouldn’t miss these days for anything. ”
Not only did I have lovely Wildcatters-themed nails and some very fun photos for the team’s pages at the end of it, but spending the afternoon with the CATS gave me the courage that evening to ask my mother the question that had been simmering between us all week.
I sat in the ladderback chair next to hers at the kitchen table, taking a page from Vivian’s book and squeezing her hand as I asked, “What’s wrong, Mom? Can you please talk to me.”
She looked up and held my eyes a moment. “I…don’t feel great,” she said with a pained expression.
“Let’s go to urgent care,” I said, rising from my seat.
She shook her head. “Thank you, darling, for looking out for me, but I already know what’s wrong.” She patted my hand and waved me back into the chair.
I hesitated, gripping the chair’s back, terrified of what I was about to hear.
“Sit, Zaila. Please. I know you’re worried about me, but it’s all right.”
I returned to sitting and sucked my lower lip into my mouth, a bad habit I’d never been able to break. Much as I wanted to ask another question, I couldn’t. My vocal cords froze, while my legs jittered with too much tension.
“My darling girl. Please believe me when I say you will be fine, and I’m okay right now.” She patted my hand again. I noted that her skin was dry and cool—like a piece of paper left in a freezer.
“Mom…” Tears welled.
“The moment I looked into your sweet little face, when I saw those big, dark eyes, everything clicked into place. You were mine, Zaila. You were always meant to be mine.” She smiled with a soft, loving sweetness that made me both warm and deeply sad.
My tears spilled over, blurring Mom’s image. “I’m so scared.”
“I know, Zaila.” She swallowed. “I am, too. That’s why…” She shook her head. “The prognosis isn’t good.” She took a breath. “I have coronary microvascular disease. Basically, plaque has built up in the small spaces, the linings of my arteries.”
“So you have surgery,” I said. “A—a bypass or something.”
Mom shook her head. “The inner areas of the blood vessels are at risk. It took time to figure out why I was so fatigued, unable to sleep. You saw me; I was unaware of the world.”
She paused, and I remembered those days, the heaviness of not doing enough for her. I should have known. I should have—
“I thought it was grief, too, darling,” she continued. “And I’m sure that was part of it, but this is something much more serious and less fixable.”
My lower lip wobbled as tears spilled down my cheeks. “There’s nothing the doctors can do?”
Mom shook her head. “Nothing that can reverse or remedy it. And there’s no way to improve my day-to-day life.
” She handed me a cloth napkin. “I’m seventy-four, and this is one of those times when the treatment would be worse than the disease.
” She swallowed, her gray eyes soft and warm as they remained firm on my face.
“I wouldn’t be able to get out of bed, and there’s no way I’d let you wait on me, nurse me. Give up your career, your life.”
“Of course I will,” I exclaimed, pushing back so quickly that the chair flopped over. “I’ll quit right now—”
“You’ll do no such thing, Zaila Alice Monroe. You’ll continue to work at that job you love.” Mom offered a mischievous glance. “And maybe bring home the man who’s caught your attention.”
I shuddered, not liking that my mom had used my full name. But that issue was about a million steps from the fundamental problem. “You’re going to d-die,” I breathed.
“Oh, my darling girl. We all die. I’ll just have to do it sooner than I wanted to.” She squeezed my hand. “Sooner than either of us is ready for.”
I shook my head. I didn’t want her gone, too. Then I’d be an orphan once more. My palms turned sweaty with the realization that without my mama, I’d again feel alone in this big, scary, painful world.