“You are, and I get it. You’re still grieving your father. But, Zaila, I’d like to spend time with you.” She paused, likely gathering her thoughts and composure. “It’s one more memory I’ll get to add to my beautiful bank of them.”
I swallowed the thorny lump of emotion that clogged my throat. “I was just packing up. I’ll be home soon.”
After saying goodbye, I pocketed my phone, turned off my computer, and picked up my purse, aware of Gunnar’s remaining presence. “I’ll see you next week,” I told him with the briefest of glances as I moved past him toward the door.
Even that was enough to see his expression now held a deep sadness. Had he heard what my mother said? He nodded. “Until then,” he murmured.
Chapter 16
Gunnar
As Zaila moved past me and strode down the hallway toward the exit, I marveled at her enthusiasm for her work, even if it didn’t come from an entirely healthy place at the moment. Zaila had found so many new ways to showcase our organization. The posts she’d created about the CATS and their preparations for preseason games had been another tremendous boost for the team’s social media presence. The fact that those women were both brilliant and down-to-earth made them relatable to our female fans, and I was proud to say we had a multitude.
I pursed my lips as I stared at Zaila’s desk. She’d circled in red a lunch date with Paloma and Vivian next week. Clearly, she didn’t want to miss it.
Paloma had told me at yesterday’s preseason game that I’d hurt Zaila when I pulled back after our afternoon at the retreat. I’d tried to stay clear of her, hoping to avoid adding fodder to the gossip mill, but I hadn’t fully considered how that would feel to her. That had been glaringly true tonight. I’d broken her confidence, and that made my chest ache. I hated to be the cause of the bleakness in her eyes, but after listening to the call from her mother, I knew I wasn’t the main reason for her unhappiness. And Jay and Jeff were adding to her stress as well.
I knew better than most how important having a person to lean on could be during difficult times. Karl had held me while I cried after our parents died. He’d taught me to acknowledge that grief, letting me sit in it and with it until I was ready to move forward and begin the more painful process of healing. Zaila seemed to be flailing against her grief and her changing reality, same as I had when I learned of my parents’ boating accident.
I’d have to inquire about into Jay’s decision to offload Jeff’s account, because I had a feeling the situation was worse than Zaila had let on. I didn’t trust Jeff Cross at all, which made my path forward clear. The season hadn’t yet opened, but I’d made known my interest in trading him. I’d take a loss on his contract if it meant getting him out of my organization before he did permanent damage to my carefully crafted world.
I sighed. Who was I kidding? Jeff had already damaged it, which was why I was still in the office this late on a Friday, planning to talk to another owner before I headed home.
The appointed time had come, so I dialed the phone and endured a conversation that went nowhere—pretty much as I’d expected since Jeff was proving to be a liability and not worth his salary. At the end I clicked off, disappointed but unsurprised as I looked around Zaila’s office. My thoughts had remained on her even during the call. She didn’t seem to have anyone to help her through these bleak days ahead. I frowned as I stared down at her desk. Until now, I’d never considered how much Karl had helped me through my parents’ deaths. Without him, I wouldn’t be the man I was today.
Perhaps Zaila could find support in the CATS. Paloma and Keelie seemed to have taken her under their wings, and Vivian had chatted my ear off about how smart and fun she was. I knew that group took good care of one another. But Zaila didn’t have a partner, didn’t have someone to stand beside her, to catch her when she stumbled.
But perhaps she could have that. The fundamental question was whether I could be that man. Because if I was going to try, I had to be all in. There was no halfway with Zaila. She deserved commitment.
My eyes fell on the coffee mug at the edge of her desk, one of my favorites from the team’s merchandise line. I touched the rim where she’d left lipstick. Then I shook my head, trying to clear it. Zaila was my employee, not to mention two decades my junior. But I couldn’t deny the connection I felt, the one others seemed to see as well.
That awareness wasn’t just physical attraction; it was a meeting of minds, a shared passion that went beyond the superficial. And it already went much deeper than what I’d found with any of the women I’d dated in my infrequent relationships over the years.
I finally went back to my office, slinging the coffee cup at my side. I smiled as I considered the fact that I’d done something for the very first time in my life: I’d stolen. Sure, it was a coffee mug. And one I’d most definitely replace, but I’d broken one of my cardinal rules, just because I wanted something of Zaila’s.
She’d never have to know. She might never figure out that I’d swapped her mug for another. But I’d know. And I didn’t regret my action, which told me more than my continued waffling ever could. I wanted the young woman any way I could have her. I wanted to be the shoulder she leaned on. I wanted to be the person she turned to in her grief but also in her joy.
So I needed to step up now and show her she could count on me. That would take some effort. “Luckily, I’m disciplined and good at following through,” I said to the empty hallway.
Entering my office, I set Zaila’s mug on my desk, right where many of my colleagues had pictures of their families. I had to tread carefully. Whatever this was between us, it was too precious to rush. For now, I was content to let it develop, and I wanted to savor each moment of our association.
As I switched off the lights and shut my office door, Zaila’s laugh echoed in my mind. Tomorrow was another day, another chance to explore what could potentially be between us. I’d make sure she had the support she needed while proving she could trust me, eventually perhaps with all aspects of her life.
Chapter 17
Zaila
When I finally got home, my mother bustled around the kitchen that Friday evening, chattering as she dished up one of my favorite meals: chicken paprikash over homemade spaetzle. The dough for the small dumplings didn’t take long to make, but cooking them in batches, standing over the boiling pot of water, was a process and had caused Mom’s cheeks to turn rosy.
“I thought we could watch a movie tonight,” she said. “Then, tomorrow, I booked us both a massage and some treatments at the spa you like.”
I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her, resting my cheek against the curve of her neck. I breathed in the soothing scent of cold cream, shampoo, and lavender sachet I’d always associated with this woman. “Thanks, Mom, for pulling me out of my funk. I’m sorry I was in that place.”
She cuddled me closer, though I knew she held a bowl in one of her hands. “Not a thing, my darling girl. You never worry over it. You, Zaila, are my moon and stars.” She pulled back with a soft smile and love shining from her gray eyes. “I never believed I’d be so lucky to have a daughter as smart, capable, and beautiful—inside and out—as you.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere.” I laughed. “I’d love to watch a movie tonight and go to the spa tomorrow, but I’d really like you to let me buy.”
“Nonsense.” She waved that away. “It’s not every day I get to spoil my professional daughter. You let me do this.”
