“You tell me,” she replied.
I leaned back in my chair as I crossed my arms. “Without Jeff, if the rest of the players keep playing like they have in preseason?” Which they wouldn’t because someone would get hurt. That was a fact of life in hockey. “The playoffs are ours to lose.” I paused, glancing over to the door. “With Jeff? I don’t think we’ll make it to the playoffs.”
“Ouch.”
I sighed. “He’s an albatross.”
“And you don’t think he’ll see reason?”
“Youth and hubris are a fatal combination for a career,” I said. “Maybe he’ll settle down and get to better choices at some point, but the bad blood here already runs too deep. We need players who not only work with our vision, they believe in it. That’s how games are won.”
“You really love this sport,” she noted.
“It’s not just the sport,” I said. “It’s what it represents—the strategy, the teamwork, the commitment to peak physicality, everything.”
As she studied me, the room felt smaller, as if it were just the two of us and nothing else mattered. With a soft laugh, she said, “You’re such a nerd about hockey.”
“Guilty as charged,” I agreed. “But don’t act like you’re not impressed by my analysis skills.”
“Oh, I’m impressed,” she teased. “Just not sure if it’s with your analysis or your ability to talk about hockey nonstop.”
By the time Zaila left my office that afternoon, I felt lighter, as if her presence had lifted me out of the grind I’d allowed my life, and myself, to fall into. And with that realization came another: I was happiest when Zaila was nearby. I’d been in a holding pattern. She’d awakened me from a long sleep, and I was ready to live and love fully now, with her.
Clearing my calendar for dinner with Zaila and her mother proved more difficult than I’d expected, as it seemed there was always an issue that needed my immediate attention. However, stepping back and allowing Silas and the Wildcatters’ general manager, Pete Riggs, to work on the trade deal for Jeff Cross was worth it.
As I parked outside Zaila’s house on Thursday evening and walked up to the door, my nerves prickled. Meeting her mother, Susan, felt like crossing an invisible threshold in whatever this thing with Zaila might become.
The door to the red-brick bungalow with white shutters opened before I could knock, and Zaila stood in the entryway with a smile that put me at ease. She looked lovely in her capris and a flowy cotton blouse that made my heart skip a beat, not that I’d admit that out loud just yet.
“I’m so glad you could join us. Come on in,” she said.
Susan greeted me in the living room. She was a petite woman with sharp gray eyes and a serene smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said. “I wanted to thank you for the delightful spa trip.” She leaned in closer and stage-whispered out of the side of her mouth, “And to meet the man who has Zaila mooning.”
Zaila’s mouth dropped open as her neck and cheeks flushed. “Oh my G?—”
“She moons over me?” I asked Susan with a chuckle.
Susan nodded. “Mmmmm…yes. She talks about you often.”
My gaze flashed over to Zaila, who now had her red face buried in her hands.
“That’s good to know,” I said. “No, this additional detail is fabulous.”
“I needed to see if you were serious about her as well,” Susan added.
“So, what’s the verdict?” I asked, my attention once again focused on Zaila.
Susan hummed. “Well, that’s what tonight’s for. So I can decide.”
I chuckled, but nerves skittered through my belly. I wanted Susan to like me, to approve of me for her daughter.
“Can we eat, now that I’m so embarrassed I may never recover?” Zaila asked, but she smiled at her mother, genuine warmth in her eyes.
Over dinner, we talked about everything from hockey to travel to Susan’s favorite books. She had this way of making you feel like you’d known her for years—a trait Zaila had clearly inherited—and the two women knew literature.
“So, Gunnar,” Susan said, her eyes glinting with amusement. “What’s your take on nonfiction? Big, boring lectures or roadmaps to a better you?”
I shrugged. “Depends, I guess. If it’s about hockey, I’m game. If it’s…I don’t know, about whale migration or something, I’m out. I don’t have time for subjects that far outside my business concerns.”
