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, looking 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.”