Page 27

Chapter 25

Guy

“Hey, ma puce . Sorry I missed you again. I just landed in St. Louis. Call me back when you can. Love you always.”

It was the third time Kitty and I had played phone tag in twenty-four hours. It had been a week since we’d even had the time and privacy for phone sex.

“Sucks, bro,” Branson said as I hung up. “How’s all that going?”

I sighed. “Not great. We can’t seem to sync up our schedules. How did you and Melanie do it?”

Branson had plans to ask his girlfriend to marry him over Christmas. I was going with him to pick out the ring when he got back to Seattle.

“I got her to move out here as soon as I could. Just have her quit school and wife her up, man.” I knew he was half joking, but even the thought was outrageous.

“She’s only nineteen. She’d kill me if I tried to stop her from her dreams.”

“I thought the same about Melanie, but when push comes to shove, if they want to be with you, they’ll do anything.”

I sucked my teeth. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s right for Kitty, though. We always both had big dreams. She’s working really hard to make it all work. I can’t take that away from her.”

“But you could give her a pretty cushy life,” Branson countered.

“I mean, yeah, I’d love to have her waiting for me after games and road trips. She’s so fucking loud at games, too. It’s fun having her there. But she’s worked too hard to throw her career away just to cheer for me,” I said, thinking out loud. “No offense to Mel, of course. You know I think the world of her.”

“I know, man. But have you thought about giving her that option?”

* * *

It took some convincing with Mark and Heather, but Kitty was going to come stay with me during my short Christmas break. The two months between our visits were pretty brutal. Kitty and I just kept missing each other, and it frustrated both of us. We wanted to be there for each other, but it was getting harder all the time. Then when we finally did talk, we’d be happy for a few minutes, then return to our frustration. I still loved Kitty so much, but there was no denying that things were really, really hard.

Kitty had given me shit for not being that incognito when I picked her up from the airport in October, so I stepped up my game for our Christmas rendezvous. She doubled over laughing when she caught sight of me. I’d put on my hockey jersey, clearly with my name on it, a fedora, and those glasses with a mustache and a big nose attached to them.

She stopped and took a picture when she was a few feet away from me. I grabbed for her and pulled her into a hard kiss. She had on her strawberry lip balm, so little bits of the cheap mustache stuck to her lips. She cackled, breathless with tears streaming down her face as she picked off the bristly hairs.

“You are my very favorite, Guy Nicolas Stelle,” Kitty cooed, her face still red from laughing. She stopped someone passing by to take our picture. A few other people stopped to take pictures with me. I made Kitty stand in with me, knowing those pictures would be on the internet before long. I wanted everyone to know that I was taken. It got old having my DMs fill up with ludicrous offers. I was half tempted to turn them off, but I was always afraid I’d miss some endorsement opportunity.

“You are so unrecognizable,” she said as I swept her up into my arms, taking in her warmth and familiar scent.

“I know, right?” It was so good to laugh with her again, especially when most of our recent interactions were riddled with frustration. “How was first class?”

“Guy, you didn’t have to do that,” she scolded me.

“I wanted to. I wanted you comfortable. It’s a long flight.” I pressed a kiss to the scar on her temple, leaning down to her ear. “Plus, I need you well-rested for all that love-making.”

“We’ve got a whole four days together, Frenchie. I’m going to be broken by the time we’re done,” she joked.

The day before Christmas Eve, Branson had a catered dinner party at his house. Some of my other teammates were there with their significant others. Kitty wore a gorgeous green jumpsuit with an open back, reminding me of a sweater that made me jealous not that long ago. She mingled with the other wives and girlfriends, but she kept glancing back my way whenever she could. It wasn’t like her to not be confident. She and Mel had gotten along really well in October, but Mel was playing hostess and couldn’t be Kitty’s sidekick the whole time.

Kitty stuck out as the youngest and the only non-blonde, something of a joke in the NHL circles. Almost every player had a blonde wife or girlfriend. I was perfectly content with my dark-haired Kitty. I walked over to join her conversation, making our defenseman Jace come with me.

“So Kitty, I heard you’re into comedy. Are you a big SNL fan?” one woman asked.

“Oh, she’s more than a fan. She’ll probably be on it someday,” I bragged, grazing my fingertips up Kitty’s spine.

“That’s interesting. Sometimes I wish I could still work. It’s just not possible with Ronnie’s schedule and the kids,” English’s wife chimed in. They had two kids under three.

“Oh,” Kitty said, trying to seem pleasant. I knew she was struggling. I hated to see her having a hard time.

“So Guy, will you try to get traded to New York if Kitty gets on SNL?”

Kitty and I looked at each other, her eyes blank but smile still pasted on. “We’ll see what comes up for us,” was all I could think to say. I could tell Kitty was hurt, giving her party smile that only I knew was fake. I gave her side a squeeze and kissed the top of her head.

Branson tapped a knife on a glass, getting everyone’s attention.

“You okay?” I whispered to Kitty. She gave me a terse nod and a too-wide smile again before putting her attention back to Branson.

“Thanks everybody for coming tonight. I want to call my girl up here, the one who made tonight possible. Melanie, will you come here?” Branson opened his arms, and everyone clapped as Mel walked up.

“Mel and I have been on a long road. We met in high school, but she turned me down when I asked her out.” A laugh scattered across the room. “But then after I got half my teeth knocked out of my head, she said yes. The last year with her has been my best. I convinced her that she didn’t need that grueling nursing job and to move out here with me. I can’t say enough about how much having her close has meant to me.”

Branson turned to Mel, taking both of her hands before getting on one knee, a ring box open in his hand. “And now I’m hoping you’ll say yes to something else.”

The gasps and shouts of excitement across the room covered up whatever Branson said to Mel, but I felt Kitty go sweaty under my hand. Melanie nodded a yes and Branson swept her off her feet with a kiss. I was so very happy for my friend, but so worried for my best friend on my arm. Champagne flutes came out on trays for a toast. We toasted the happy couple, but I didn’t miss that Kitty sucked down her champagne in one gulp. She also picked the skin next to her thumbnail until it bled. I snuck to get a cocktail napkin to stop the bleeding.

The writing was on the wall. She was not happy.

“You ready to go home, ma puce ?”

“We can stay.” Her fake smile flashed. She never used that smile with me. My stomach sank. “Branson is your best friend.”

I turned her to me, putting my fingers under her chin. “No, you are.” I kissed her, not feeling much of a kiss back. “You don’t give that fake smile to me, you understand? We are real. Always. Okay, Birdy?”

Kitty hugged me and nodded. I took her hand in mine and waited for our chance to congratulate the happy couple. Kitty gave Melanie a warm hug that looked genuine, but I saw the sadness in Kitty’s eyes.

She was silent the whole car ride home. I held her hand, knowing her conversation with the other WAGs was probably weighing heavily on her.

When we got home, she went straight to the bathroom, closing the door. She never did that. Call it gross, but we were door-open people. But soon I figured out why she shut me out. Vomit echoed off the tile in the bathroom. I knocked at the door when I heard her tears start. I got a cool washcloth and sat next to her on the floor, not sure what to say.

“What’s going through your head, Kitty Bird?” I asked, taking the hair tie from her wrist and pulling back her hair.

“I can’t be what you need, Guy,” she sobbed. I opened my legs and leaned against the bathroom wall, pulling her against my chest.

“What do you mean? You are what I need, Kitty.”

“I can’t give up everything to be your hockey wife,” she said, her eyes red. “I still want things for myself. I don’t want to give up my dreams to wait at home for you. And that makes me feel like an asshole.”

I shook my head. “I don’t want you to give anything up, Kitty.”

“But something has to give, Guy. We’re stressing each other out trying to stay together and it’s only the beginning.”

I couldn’t hold back anymore. Tears brimmed for me, too. “Am I losing you, Kitty?”

She didn’t say anything, just sobbed, looking into my eyes. We wiped at each other’s tears.

“I don’t want to lose you,” she whispered.

We held each other on the bathroom floor, mourning the wall of insurmountable challenges we faced. The only way we could be there for each other is if one of us gave up everything. And neither of us wanted the other to do that.

When it was clear Kitty wasn’t going to get sick again, I helped her to her feet. We got ready for bed. We laughed at each other for crying while we brushed our teeth. We were rock bottom pathetic. Then I held her tight to me in bed, thinking maybe if I held tight enough, it wouldn’t be real.