Chapter 17
Gage
She’d left.
The one woman I thought would stay.
She hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye, hadn’t given me fair warning or a chance to find some kind of compromise.
I wanted it to hurt, to feel some kind of pain, agony, or even anger, but instead I was numb. The last week had gone by in a kind of hazy blur. I put Lettie on the waiting list for preschool next year, somehow made it to the doc for a checkup and then practice, but everything else felt hazy. Surreal.
“Gage!” Mom snapped, and I looked up from where I’d been staring at Lettie on her Fortress, my hands wrapped around a coffee mug.
“What?” I asked.
She sighed. “This applicant is fluent in Norwegian, and has great references,” she shuffled the papers on the patio table. “She also has lovely legs,” she mumbled.
“Nope,” I answered automatically. “Find me someone over sixty. Bad legs.” There was zero chance I was ever going to fall for the nanny again.
She scoffed. “Honestly. I know you’re upset about Bailey leaving, but really…”
“Really what? I love her, Mom. I love her and she walked out. I’m not upset. I’m about four steps beyond that.”
She reached across the table to lightly hold my wrist. “I know, and I’m so sorry. You two just had such different views of your future.”
“She didn’t even give it a shot. I get it, she couldn’t turn down Paris. I don’t blame her. I couldn’t walk away from the NHL…” I looked over to where Lettie was climbing. She reached the top of her fortress and then waved after blowing me a kiss. I caught it and threw it back.
Maybe this was enough. Maybe I didn’t need hockey. How badly could I need it if I knew I would throw it all away to keep her safe...or to have Bailey back in my arms. Was there anything I wouldn’t do to have her back?
“I’ll say one thing on the subject and not one more,” Mom said.
I met her somber expression but didn’t speak.
“If you’re set against having more children because you legitimately don’t want more—”
“Mom,” I groaned, my head smacking back against the chair.
“Oh, stop. Her mother is my best friend. Don’t you think we talk about you?”
“Great,” I said with a sarcastic smile, taking a sip of what was now frigid coffee.
“Anyway. If that’s your reason, then yes, you might have an issue that’s greater than you can overcome. But if you’re doing this because you think she’s anything like Helen—because you’re scared that she’ll leave you, too, then my dear...you’re being a fucking idiot.”
Coffee came out of my nose.
Fuck, that hurt.
I wiped the liquid off my face and openly gawked at my mother. “Excuse me?”
“She’s not Helen.”
“I know that,” I said, running my hands over my hair. “You don’t think I want more kids? I love Lettie. She’d be a phenomenal big sister and even the idea of having another little girl with Bailey’s smile… Hell yes, I want that. But what happens when she chooses art over us, just like she did now? What happens when I inevitably fuck everything up and she walks out? Does she leave all of us? Or do we get into a nasty custody battle where the kids never feel settled?”
Mom sighed. “Why do you think it would end? Why do you always assume the worst? Because I left your dad?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t get past the lump that had lodged itself in my throat.
“Oh, Gage. We never loved each other the way you and Bailey do. I see the way you watch each other. I’ve seen it since you were kids. You can’t go through life basing your relationship on everyone else’s. Don’t make her pay for Helen’s crime. Or for mine.
I looked over to Lettie and realized with another crack to my heart that maybe I was making her pay for mine.
December in Ontario was bitter, especially when a cold front came down from the arctic. I pulled the collar of my jacket higher and made my way toward the restaurant.
It had been three weeks since Bailey moved to Paris. Three weeks with little to no contact. Sure, she skyped Lettie once a week, but even then our contact was limited to “hi, how are you?”
My heart hurt more every day in a way no painkiller could take away. I wasn’t just missing her body, her smile, her laugh, the way she erased every worry with a simple embrace. I was missing our family—driving home from practice to see my girls. The house felt so fucking empty even though there were still two of us in it.
I couldn’t even replace her as a nanny. Mom had to step in to help because I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else getting as close to Lettie as Bailey had—couldn’t stand the thought of replacing her.
She was irreplaceable.
I crossed the busy street and walked into the restaurant, welcoming the blast of warmth. I would never complain about Seattle winters again. Ever.
She was easy to spot, her blonde hair perfectly done, her style just a little on the showy side. Fuck, well here we go. “Helen,” I said as I took the seat across from her after handing my jacket to the maitre ‘d.
“Gage,” she answered, sipping champagne from a flute. “I already ordered for you. Filet with a side of pasta for a little carb load before tonight’s game?”
I nodded, hating that she knew even the most mundane details of my life. “Thank you.”
“Are you enjoying my city?” she asked, her giant diamond flashing under the lights.
“It’s cold. Kind of like you. Why did you ask me to lunch?” I said, my patience wearing thin.
She arched a thinly tweezed eyebrow. “I wanted to talk about Scarlett.”
“I figured.” My fingers toyed with the tablecloth, trying to keep my temper in check.
She sighed. “What I did on her birthday...I’m sorry about the cat.”
“You apologizing? That’s a first.” I sucked in a deep breath. “Sorry, now I’m being the ass. Don’t apologize for the cat, Helen. Apologize for not knowing in the first place.”
“I know,” she said quietly, playing with the stem of her glass. “I’m not her mother anymore, not really.”