24. Joey
It had been a long week. But not because work at the lab was anything less than completely perfect.
It was long because John was so unhappy.
And that made me unhappy.
And I”d be damned if I was going to sit around and do nothing about it. The only problem was that there was very little I could actually do.
But I was trying. I heard the garage door rolling open late Friday evening, and shut the laptop in my room. ”Clara, John”s back. I need to go.” I held the phone to my ear as I moved into the living room.
”Okay. Don”t worry about this. I”m on it,” she said.
I didn”t know what Clara could do either, but I figured she might have an idea or two I hadn”t thought of. Since I”d thought of...none.
Together we”d come up with a few shots in the dark, but I had the sense that my efforts to keep John with the Wombats were nothing more than a way to keep my disappointed mind busy. The reality was that my perfect future had lasted all of a few days before exploding.
I was on the couch with a glass of wine when John came in. I braced myself for a frown, but what appeared was something very different.
An enormous vase of lilies came through the door, blocking any traces of my fiancé from view. It was the largest arrangement of flowers I”d ever seen, and by far the most beautiful.
”Congratulations,” he called, his voice muffled slightly by the flowers in his arms.
”Oh my gosh, those are amazing.”
”Wait till you see what else I got,” he said, moving to put the vase on the coffee table.
I bounced on the sofa. ”What else?”
”Hold on,” he said, grinning at me and dropping a quick kiss onto my forehead as he rushed by again, heading back out to the garage.
A moment later he reappeared, his hands full of food boxes and the smell of garlic preceding him. From one hand dangled a white paper bag.
”Food,” I murmured appreciatively.
”Not just food,” he corrected, coming to the couch to put these items with the flowers on the table. ”Benito”s Italian. Mizzoni and his uncle Julius say it”s the most authentic and amazing they”ve tasted in the state.”
”Well, okay then,” I laughed.
”And I got donuts just in case.”
”In case what?” I asked, loving the easy smile on his face as he dropped into the seat next to me.
”In case of emergency. Donuts are always good to have on hand. In case of whatever.”
Laughter escaped from my lips, bubbling naturally from inside me without me thinking about it. John had this effect on me. He made me so happy that I didn”t even think about being happy. He made the whole world around me feel happy too—his simple presence just made things better.
”Thank you for all this,” I told him, leaning in to kiss his cheek. ”The flowers are gorgeous.”
”You”re welcome. I”m so proud of you,” he said, one hand brushing my cheek.
”How was camp?” I asked. ”Did it all finish up well?”
He nodded. ”Yeah, I think it did. The kids were so happy with their gifts, and when the Wombats skated for them, you would have thought they were meeting movie stars or superheroes.”
”You guys are superheroes to kids who are into hockey,” I reminded him. ”And even if they”re too young to realize it, you really are a superhero to them. Those kids wouldn”t get a chance like this without you.”
John lifted a shoulder, and I watched the clouds race through his eyes—the worry he”d been trying to hide from me all week.
We were both pretending everything was fine, even though it wasn”t.
”I got some news too,” he said, his voice losing its glee.
”Yeah?” I took a bite of the ravioli he”d brought me. Incredible.
”Looks like it”s between Seattle and Phoenix.”
My heart crumpled and the pasta in my mouth turned to paper. ”Oh.”
”Yeah.”
I didn”t know what to say. I wanted to paint a sunny picture, to tell him it would all be okay. But how could it be? John was going to leave. And neither of us could predict what that would mean for us.
”Maybe it?—”
”You know what?” he asked, cutting me off.
”What?”
”For tonight, can we just pretend? Let”s just pretend it isn”t happening. Let”s just pretend we don”t know.”
”Okay, Sammy,” I said. ”But I think it”s good you got those donuts.”
He nodded, and we ate pasta side by side on his couch, both of us doing our best to pretend and both of us failing miserably. Eventually, we were eating donuts, the feeling of our limited time together swaying over us like a pendulum.
There was a tiny spark of hope within me, based on some of the ideas Clara had come up with earlier, but I didn”t have the local knowledge or resources to make things happen. Clara, however, had grown up here. So when John reached for me, pulling me into his lap on the couch, I let my mind go. I gave up my obsessive replaying of all the things I couldn”t control and decided to put my faith in Clara and her contacts.
”Don”t worry,” she”d told me. ”It isn”t over yet.”
I straddled John on the couch and let myself focus on those deep dark eyes, on the way he relaxed beneath my fingers as I kissed him softly, pushed my hands into his hair. I let myself sink onto him, keeping us each concentrated on the connection between us, the way our bodies fit and the peace we found in the aftermath when his arms circled my body, when our breathing was mirrored, when we were as connected as two people could be.
Nothing could break this, could it?
It was dark outside and the food had been reduced to crumbs, the bottle of wine empty when John said softly, ”Joey. No matter what happens... these have been the best weeks of my life.”
I was stone-cold sober and one hundred percent awake then. ”Don”t do that.”
”I”m just?—”
”You”re telling me goodbye. You”re giving up.”
”No, I”m not. I just?—”
I shook my head and blocked my ears like a child. ”I”m not listening. I”m not hearing it, John. This isn”t over.”
”Cute,” he said, pulling one hand from my head as I sagged next to him on the couch. ”But this is out of our control.”
”No.” I disagreed. ”My whole life so far has been about other people deciding my future. It”s been about me going along with everything, not rocking the boat, and definitely not making any uncomfortable proclamations about what I might or might not actually want.” My voice had risen as I spoke, and Hank padded out from the hallway now, clearly wondering what all the commotion was about. He leapt onto the coffee table, giving us a glance before moving to the vase and lifting a paw toward one lily.
”Hank, no,” John warned.
Hank glanced at him and lowered his paw, playing innocent but not moving away from the flowers.
Then John turned to me. ”I get it,” he said, his voice full of exhaustion and defeat. ”But this is hockey. I”m just a commodity right now. A warm body to fill a certain space. It takes years to be a name, to be the kind of player who gets to write his own ticket.”
”Maybe,” I said. ”But I”m still not taking this lying down.”
John raised an eyebrow. ”Well, you may not wanna lay down, but I don”t sleep well upright. I”m gonna go to bed.”
”You know what I meant.”
”Goodnight, baby.”
”I might stay up a bit,” I told him. I was too buzzed from the wine, my first week at work, and the desperate hope that Clara could really do magic to sleep yet.
”I”ll see you in the morning.”
”Leg day,” I reminded him.
He rolled his eyes. ”What have I created?”
That night I stayed up for hours, digging through websites and looking for leads. By the time I finally put my head down, I”d compiled everything for Clara and sent it in an email. It might not work, but at least I”d know I had given it my very best effort.