When I finished my set, Guy waited at the bar with a beer forme and an open stool.
“You were amazing,” he said into another hug, this one longer and more intimate.
“So were you, funny fan! Thanks for coming. It’s really great to see you,” I said. “And what a surprise!”
“I figured you’d tell me not to come if I told you I was coming,” he said. “I really wanted to see you. I miss you.”
I took a long drink of my beer. Why did he think I’d tell him not to come? I didn’t feel like getting into it with a potential audience around us. “How long are you in town?”
“I booked a room for the weekend,” he said. “I knew you had a few sets here, and based on your schedule, it doesn’t seem like you live here anymore.”
“Oh,” I said, somewhat taken aback. It’s true, I loosely followed his schedule during hockey season, but he had done research about me. “Yeah, I don’t. I’m about to start a job in L.A.”
His jaw fell open. “Congrats! What’s the job?”
“I got a writing job for a show on NBC.”
Guy’s eyes lit up. “Seriously? Kitty, that’s so amazing! I’m so proud of you!”
“And I bought a house. I close next week,” I told him with a grin.
“Oh my God, Kitty Bird! I can’t believe it!” He did that thing where he swept me into his broad and tall body and jostled me around like I was a toy. It always made me feel so cherished, a child-like display of affection that was so pure and joyful. “Can I take you to dinner to celebrate?”
I laughed. “Why do I get the feeling you were going to take me to dinner even if I bombed tonight and had no good news to share?”
Guy gave a deep, full laugh. “You know me too well.”
He popped on a baseball cap, paid our tab, and we headed out. His fitted shirt gave a delicious peek at his biceps, and his jeans were a goddamn work of art. He touched me as much ashe possibly could on the walk over, and I let him. It was so nice to be back in his company, with his familiar scent and his hands moving their old routes over my body.
He was in the mood for sushi, so we slid into a late-night spot not far from the theater district. As I picked my sushi, I kept feeling him watching me. I looked up.
“What?”
“I’m just so glad you’re here,” he said, eyes soft.
“Yeah?”
We ordered, and he took my hand across the table, playing with my fingers and knuckles until he settled on holding it.
“So I don’t mean to crash your weekend in New York, but I want to talk to you about something,” Guy started. His expression was vulnerable and sincere in the table’s candlelight. “I don’t think last time was our only time to try. It was a good start, but it wasn’t the end of our story.”
I gave a wry smile. “I live in L.A. now, though, and your season is about to start.”
“I know. But I have summers off, and really Kitty, I date around but no one makes me happy like you do. You understand me, and I understand you.” He looked down at my hand in his, rubbing his thumb over my fingers, then brought his eyes back to mine. “I never stopped loving you. I’ll play L.A. and Anaheim a couple times a season, and I can fly you out to see me when you have breaks. I know it’s not ideal, but I’d rather have you sometimes than not at all.”
“But what’s the end goal? You still have another five or ten years to play. Will we be long distance for that long?”
“I don’t know right now. But I’ll do my best to work around you. I’ll never ask you to give up your career for me again,” he said. I swallowed hard. One of the greatest deliberations of my adult life was whether I was wrong turning him down when he offered to make me an NHL wife.
“We haven’t even really talked in over a year, Guy. You kind of fell off. We don’t even know if we’re still right for each other. People change,” I said, pulling my hand back from his and sitting back. With the upcoming changes in my career, I didn’t know if I could handle the emotional rollercoaster of trying with him again. Never really being able to have him. Forever out of reach.
Guy sighed. “I don’t know what you had planned for this weekend, and I don’t want to take it over if you had big plans. But what if we just pretend for this weekend that it’s all going to work? What if we try, just for these three days? Then you can think about it.”
I took a beat to think. I thought about what he’d said on stage, and I knew they weren’t just lines. With me, Guy isn’t an act. He’s real. So much had passed between us over the years. So much time, so many memories, so much pain, and so, so much love.
I reached for his hand again. “This weekend. All in. We don’t talk about the complicated stuff. I can’t have my heart broken like that again. We’ll just enjoy each other. I have a couple of dates with friends but the rest of the time, I’m yours.”
Guy’s eyes went watery. “Thank you. I love you, Kitty Bird.”
