Sadie breaks apart the bread before putting it into her mouth. “It's called being sleep deprived. Who can function with hardly any sleep?”
“Brin should be sleeping through the night,” Mom states.
“Most of the time. She still gets up once or twice. My days are tiring. Who would have thought a little person could be so much work?”
Carla pours salad dressing on her greens. She can't even eat, knowing Devin is sitting beside her, watching her and listening to every word she says.
“Wait until you experience it,” Sadie says to her sister. “It's like nothing you're prepared for.”
“But it's worth it,” Carla says.
“Yes, it's worth it.”
“Where's Brinley?”
“Napping.”
“At six-thirty?”
“She goes to bed at ten.”
“Past my bedtime.” Carla laughs. “That's why you're tired.”
“Kids suck the energy out of you. Anyway,” Sadie says, “I didn't know you were seeing each other. How did you two meet?”
Carla takes a breath, looks at Devin and then at her sister. “We're not together,” she says, watching everyone's face fixated on her. She twirls her pasta, not sure what to do with the sudden jitters in her fingers. Meanwhile he appears to be relaxed, smirking at her like he's interested in what she's about to say.
“I met Devin when he was with Carolina and was here playing. It was after a game. I took him aside to interview him. He'd just scored two goals and Carolina was winning.” She pauses, gathering her thoughts. “That was the first the time.” She gulps. “When he was traded here, I had some questions for him and set up an interview.”
“Did you catch that first interview?” Devin asks everyone.
He doesn't wait for an answer; he starts talking. “Some questions!” He looks at her and then at the table. “She wanted to know if I was planning on staying in Carolina or if I was going to be traded.” He looks at her, and for a moment she is awestruck by his sensitivity. “I don't know how she knew, but she knew. I didn't want to let the cat out of the bag. How did you know?”
“I followed you and . . . and others who were ending their contracts.” Carla feels her face warming. “I thought it was an honest question.”
“Honest, yes,” Gavin says, “but leave the guy alone.”
Devin laughs and takes a bite of his dinner.
“So, Devin, have you had a chance to see the city?”
“Not as much as I'd like.”
“Carla should show you around.”
“She promised me she would,” he says.
Carla sucks in her lips, feeling all eyes on her. She glares at her brother and then turns her head toward Devin. “I'd love to.”
He sits back and places his hands on his lap, giving everyone his full attention, like he's on display. He's probably used to it.
“Tickets are hard to get,” Uncle Bob chimes in. “I tried to get tickets to the game against Detroit, but there were none available.”
“Never are,” Dad says. “They're hard to get unless you're lucky and work for a company that has box seats or season tickets.”
Devin shakes his head. “Hard to believe.”
“You're playing in a hockey-obsessed city. That's just the way it is here,” Dad says.
Mom stands and collects dirty plates. Carla jumps to her feet to help.
“I'll put the kettle on. We'll have tea with cake?” Mom asks, walking with an armful of dishes to the kitchen. Devin and the men are making small talk at the table while the women are in the kitchen getting dessert.
Sadie leans over Carla's shoulder and whispers, “Are you sure there's nothing between you two?”
“No!” Carla snaps. She opens the dishwasher and loads it.
“I don't believe it.”
Mom looks their way, listening as she takes out a box of tea from the cupboard and places four bags in the pot.
“Seriously, there's nothing,” Carla says, reaching for a dirty plate.
Sadie arches an eyebrow. “He definitely likes you.”
Carla can't keep the smile from her lips. They start to twitch and she bends down to place forks in the cutlery slot to save herself from her sister's quizzical gaze.
“You should go for him, then,” Sadie says. “He likes you and you're single.” She shrugs and opens the drawer to take out the dessert forks. Sadie stares. “You're not interested, are you?”
“Nope.”
“That's why you're still single,” Mom says. “You're not giving yourself a chance.”
“A chance to what? Get my heart broken? Get wrapped up in an affair and be the one hurt when it's over? No way. I'm not doing it.”
“Is that what this is about? You don't want to date because you're scared of getting hurt?” Sadie asks, stepping closer.
Carla can feel her eyes sting. She won't allow herself to cry. Not here. Never.
Her mom comes in close. They're both surrounding her.
“Who's to say you'll get hurt?”
“I always do!” Carla says, holding back from lashing out. She doesn't want the guys to hear her. She doesn't want Devin to hear her. It's best if, after tonight, they go their separate ways and meet each other again at a game or practice. It's best for both of them. It's best for Carla.
“I've been divorced,” she begins, once she's collected her thoughts. “Nobody wants a divorcée.”
“What does that have to do with being in love?”
“I told Timothy I loved him. We said our vows. How can I fall in love with someone else and say those vows again? It doesn't seem right. How would someone know I was telling them the truth?”
“Why are you worried about something that hasn't happened?” Mom asks.
Carla taps her fingernails on the counter, thinking about it. “I don't want to go down that road again.”
“I know,” Sadie says, reaching her arm out for comfort.
“I believed in us,” Carla whispers. “I might have fallen out of love, but I still care for Timothy a lot and every day when I see him I think, should I have tried harder? Should I have done something to save us? What could I have done?”
“Nothing,” Sadie says softly. “You did everything you could.”
“Did I?”
Sadie nods with strained eyes. “You did. I was there. I heard it all and saw it all. You and Tim tried. It just didn't work, but that's not to say it can't work with someone else. Stop beating yourself up. It was two years ago. It's time to move on. You've had enough time to mourn and to come to grips with it being over. But
you're
not over. You need to live. Find someone to live with.”
“Thanks,” Carla says. Her sister wraps her arms around her. It feels good to have a hug and feel the love.
“Where's the cake?” Gavin says, coming into the kitchen. “Dad says it's chocolate.”
“His favorite,” Mom says, handing Gavin the cake. She lights the candles and Gavin walks out of the kitchen with a loud introduction of “Happy Birthday.”
They have their cake and drink tea, laughing and talking. Dad tells the story about when he and Gavin tried to make an ice rink in the backyard and it wasn't cold enough to freeze solid and the ice cracked, getting his foot stuck.
“Carla didn't try skating on it?” Devin wants to know.
“She was smart,” Dad says. “She warned us it would happen. I guess I wanted to at least try so I could say we played ice hockey in our backyard.”
“You'd have to go back east for that,” Gavin says.
“I'm fine here,” Dad says, lifting his teacup to his mouth.
There's a lull in the conversation until Sadie clears her and her husband's plates and cups and says, “We should get going. I have to put Brinley to bed.” She puts her dishes in the kitchen and comes back out to give her dad a hug and a kiss on his cheek. “Happy birthday, Dad.”
“Thanks, honey.”
“Nice meeting you, Devin,” she says, shaking his hand.
Devin rises to his feet. “I should get going too. I have to pack. We're in Anaheim tomorrow night.”
Of course, just as Carla was starting to feel comfortable. But the evening did have to come to a close. She had work tomorrow and it would be a good idea to get a decent night's sleep.
“I'll walk you out,” Carla tells Devin. He eyes her with a skeptical gaze. “I'm leaving too,” she manages to say.
Carla stands and hugs her parents. She puts on her shoes, Devin standing patiently beside her. She likes that he's waiting for her, as though they'd be going home together.
“All set?” he asks her.
A smile perks her lips. He opens the door, stops and shouts out, “It was nice meeting you!”
Her parents both wave. “It was good to have you.”
“Happy birthday,” Devin says and steps outside.
Carla shuts the door behind them. “Thank you for coming,” she says, walking in stride to their cars.
“My pleasure. Thanks for the invite. It was fun.”
“It was the best birthday my dad has had,” Carla says. “Because you showed up.”
She stops in front of her car.
“I don't think it was me. He had his family there. That's what made it.”
A light in Devin's eye captures Carla, and she wonders what it would be like if she could get closer to him and smell his sweet scent.
“He's a family guy,” she says happily.
“I noticed. And why not? It's the best.”
“What?”
“Family. Kids. You know, the whole package.”
“Wife.” Carla bit her lip. Why did she say that word? She wasn't trying to put words in his mouth, and damn her for thinking it. The last thing she wants is for Devin to think she's coming on to him, because she's not. She doesn't want him. She's made up her mind.
“Of course.”
Her stomach flops. Devin does have a sensitive side. She stands on her tippy toes and then relaxes her feet.
“You know how to get back?” she asks.
“I have GPS.”
“Right.”
“I'll be okay, thanks.” He takes a step back. “Will I see you Friday night at the game?”
He's not going to kiss her . . . he wants to leave. Devin doesn't want her . . . probably a good thing, she thinks. Why would he want her?
“No. I'm working at the station.” She fumbles with her purse, trying to pull out her keys. “I'll see you around.”
“Yeah.” He's walking backward. “Thanks for dinner.”
“Anytime.”
“You don't want to tell me that; you might not get rid of me. That was the best spaghetti dinner I've ever had.”
“My mom would be happy to hear that.”
“I told her. She said I could come over next Sunday night for dinner.”
“She did, did she?” Carla opens her car door. “My mom would love to cook for you. She complains that no one comes over anymore. She forgets we're all working and have our own lives.”
“If I had a family like yours, I'd make a point of coming for dinner.”
“We try,” she says, not sure what to do with her keys. Should she get in and start her car or keep talking and hope that he'll kiss her?
“I better get going,” Devin says. A sharp smile shows off his white teeth.
Everything about him makes him gorgeous and easy to look at.
He holds up his hand and does a quick wave. “Catch you at a game, I'm sure.” And walks away.
Carla stands at her car with the door open. That's it?
When will we get to talk again?
She watches him saunter to his Range Rover down the street. He clicks his remote and hops in.
He is so hot and yet so cold.
She lets him drive away first so she can feel sorry for herself and not worry about him looking in his rearview mirror and see her pout. It's dark, but surely she could be spotted under a streetlight or at an intersection.
It's not meant to be.
Devin doesn't want her.
He can't have her anyway because . . . because she
doesn't want him
.
Chapter 10
“H
e's not interested in me,” Carla tells Gabby as they trot down the hallway from the graphics department to the studio.
“Come on, really? You don't think he'd want a sexy babe as a girlfriend?”
Carla bursts out laughing.
“You talk a lot about him,” Gabby says.
“No, I don't. I see him a lot, that's the difference.” Carla bites her tongue. “I mean, I don't see him that much.”
“You should ask him out.”
Carla bites her bottom lip, holding back a smile. “I'm really not interested. He likes himself too much, and besides, he's kind of cold.”
“Really?”
“Well, yeah. I don't think he's a happy person.”
“That's because he's single and not getting any.”
Carla bursts out with a laugh. “I'm sure he's getting some.”
They turn the corner and head down the stairs. “He's always perplexed and comes off edgy, like I'm going to ask him something he's not comfortable with.” Carla stops and faces her friend. “Tell me, am I overbearing? Too persuasive? Strong-minded?”
“Your mother is overbearing. You? You're good at doing what you do. You've been single for too long. That's the problem. It's time for you to date again. You need to start caring about a guy, get to know him.”
Carla gives it some thought, and the two start walking again to the bottom level. “I don't want to be with another anxious guy, you know? Or one who's boring . . . all he does is work. You know what that does to a relationship?” Carla raises an eyebrow. If she ever were to marry again, she would make sure that not only was there a physical connection but he had to be her best friend too. She'd learned from marrying Timothy that marriage was more than two people creating a life together. It was a friendship that needed to be strong from the beginning.
“Why don't we head out to a club or something this weekend? Get dressed up, wear our leopard-print heels. Pick up some guys.”
Carla bursts out laughing. “And do what? We're not twenty, and aren't you seeing that guy?” Carla snaps her fingers. “From the dealership? What's his name?”
Gabby rolls her eyes. “One date. It's over. Tried selling me a car on our first date. That's grounds for âsee-ya!'”
They enter a newsroom bursting with activity. Phones are ringing, people shouting. “I guess I should get back to work,” Carla says. “I have to file a story for six.”
“Don't forget about this weekend.”
“We'll see.”
“That means no,” Gabby says.
“Can't we do something that doesn't remind me of my age? Like going to a show?”
Gabby sighs. “We always go to a show. We didn't like the last one.”
“Interested in going to see the Warriors play?” Carla asks hopefully. It's not very often they hang out at a game unless it's a double date, and even then, tickets are hard to come by.
“Or go to a club?” her friend pouts.
Carla makes a face.
“Do you have Warriors tickets?”
“I can get you a media pass,” Carla says.
“And stand the whole game at the boards? Not fun.”
“I can try for box seats.”
Pamela races toward them. “Carla? You have a phone call. Line two.” She holds up two fingers and passes them in a rush.
“Thanks.” Carla turns to her friend. “Gotta go! We'll catch up later.”
Carla gets to her desk and answers abruptly before sitting down in her chair.
“Hi, it's Keith Miller.”
“Hi, Keith.”
“I'll be at the game. Do you think you can make arrangements to meet?”
She bites her bottom lip. Why can't she tell Keith she's not interested in getting involved with his family reunion? What would Devin say about her talking to his dad behind his back?
“I don't know. . . .”
“I live in Seattle. I'm coming up for the game. You have my number? I'll meet you at the media box.”
“Have you been there before?”
“I've been to a few games. It's the only way I get to see my son.”
Carla swallows. How sad. “I'll see. I don't know if I'll be at the game. . . .”
“I have to see Devin.” His voice comes alive.
“I don't see how. Don't you have a family member who can be there?”
“You interviewed him last year and said something to him that made me think of what's been missing in our lives.”
“I did?”
“You asked him about his contract.”
“I guess he wasn't expecting my question.”
“It wasn't that. He had a sparkle in his eye, I remember. Sure, you caught him off guard, but did you see how he reacted?”
“That's why he doesn't like me.”
“You're good for him. Any woman who can stand up to Devin is a good match. He's not easy to get along with, and that's my point. He's stubborn. Devin gets that from me, but you can be there as mediator.”
“That's not my job, Keith,” Carla says, head down and holding her head.
Why did he pick me?
“My job is to report on sports. I can't do it.” Carla sees Timothy making eyes at her, probably wondering who she's talking to. She lowers her voice. “I understand your situation. I'm sorry, but I can't get involved. It's unprofessional.”
Keith makes a sound like he's about to say something, then pauses. “I think you're the only one who can help,” he says gently. “He'll listen to you.”
Carla laughs. “If he won't listen to his father, he won't listen to me.”
“I wish it were that way.”
“Look, I could get into trouble,” she whispers into the phone. “If things went sideways. I have a job to do and I don't want to jeopardize it.” Why is she making excuses? She doesn't need to explain herself to a guy she doesn't know.
“I'll be sitting in section D, row one forty. I'll be waiting there during second period for you. If you change your mind, call. If you get a hold of Devin, be sure to tell him there's someone at the game who's been dying to meet him. He might like it. He always was a proud and determined kid. I guess that's why he's made it as far as he has. Never thought playing street hockey would lead him to the NHL. . . .”
“Keith? I have to go. I have work to do.”
“Right. Well, if by chance I could meet you, even if I won't be seeing Devin, at least I could thank you in person.”
“Thank me for what?”
“For not hanging up on me. Listening to me. I haven't spoken about Devin to a stranger in years, and now that I have, I'm ready to face him. I'm ready to move on to a better place.”
Carla slumps back in her chair, holding the phone without any strength. Her heart aches for Devin. To not know his dad, not have a relationship with one of the most important people in his life. As much as Carla disagrees with her mom and sometimes has the feeling she loves Sadie more for staying married and being a mom, she can't imagine not being part of a family. Maybe she should call her mom just to say hi. Reassure herself that even though there's a strain between them at times, she still loves her.
Carla hangs up with Keith and is finishing the story she's writing for the evening news when Timothy approaches, laying a hand on her desk. Her eyes follow the long fingers, up to the bridge of his nose. Has he always been so tall? He has sideburns now and thin-rim glasses. He's a different man than he was five, six years ago. Older, possibly wiser. She doesn't know what it is, but he certainly has changed.
“Is everything okay?” he asks.
“Just finishing up this story. Can you believe Price is out again with another knee injury? He won't be playing any road-trip games. What's wrong with that guy? He's been on the injury list more times than he's played.”
“How long is he out for?”
“I'll know more tomorrow. It's possible he'll miss the play-offs.”
Timothy whistles. “Tough break.”
Carla leans back in her chair. “Everything fine with you?”
“Great.”
“Good,” Carla says, staring into his eyes. Even though they aren't together and haven't been for three years, she still has an attachment to Timothy, like if her car broke down, she knows she could count on him to help her. Could they have worked it out? Guilt replaces the agony of what she could have done. It could have been better. Giving up wasn't what she did, but, at the time, divorce seemed like the logical thing to do.
“If you need me, to talk, whatever, you know I'm here.”
“I know. Thanks,” she says and lets out a sigh. If only she could ask him about having a baby.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.” She waves him away and focuses on her computer screen. She's saving her story and clicking off the page when Pamela rushes toward her.
“What's up?” Carla asks.
Pamela's eyes are full of worry. She crouches down. “Taya just got fired. They called her into the off ice. She walked out carrying her coat and purse and told me she was fired! Can you believe that? I can't.”
Carla puts her lips together. Kyle is right; they are firing people. Could it be because the ratings fell?
“Who's next?” Pamela asks, throwing her hand to her forehead. “It's like a horror movie, people getting killed off and nobody knowing when it's going to be them.”
“Don't panic. Taya was in . . . graphics.” Carla stops herself. Is Gabby in trouble? Her pulse quickens and she clutches her jaw. “Did she say why?”
Pamela shakes her head.
“Maybe she did something and we don't know.” Carla shrugs.
“I'm scared. I've had this job forever.”
“They'll keep you. They'd be foolish to get rid of their best employee,” Carla says with a twist of her lips. Will there be more firings?
“Taya was good. She and Gabby were a team up there,” Pamela says.
“I hope I'm not next,” Carla mutters.
“Boss!” Ryan shouts, running toward her.
“I've gotta go,” Pamela says and hurries off.
“What's up?” she asks her coworker.
“First thing tomorrow I'm heading over to UBC to interview the coach of the women's hockey team.”
“Okay.”
“After that, I've been invited to check out the guy's hockey team. They're also practicing. There are some new players, and I'm told the coach has a lot to say about them.”
“You're getting a lot of calls lately,” Carla says.
Ryan throws a hand on his hip. He raises his chin. “I'm making good connections. They seem to like me there.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere a team is practicing. I've had no problems getting on the field or in the offices.”
“We're Channel Five. We shouldn't have a problem.” Carla wonders why she doesn't get these types of phone calls. They don't come as often as they should. She has to be the one to track down the story.
Ryan moves his body with an uncomfortable wiggle. “I guess. I get along with the guys. They treat me like one of their own.”
Carla purses her lips. She's not going to let Ryan think any less of her. She's paid her dues. She's one of them. She's the sports anchor. She wouldn't have gotten the job if they didn't think she could do it. She's good, she tries telling herself, but the other part of her gnaws at her, telling her it's only a matter of time before she's fired, and if she is, will she get the Sports National job? She hasn't heard anything yet.
“Well, good luck, then. Keep me posted.”
“I will!”
She watches him leave and is stuck in self-pity. She sulks. What can she do to keep her job? Ryan is good at what he does. She doesn't doubt that he gets phone calls. He may even have invites for dinner and drinks with the guys.
Carla picks up the phone and calls her mom.
“Care Bear! This is a surprise. Everything okay?”
“Just fine.” Carla twirls the phone cord between her fingers. “Just checking in. How are you?”
“Good! Aunt Marie and I just got in from shopping. There's a sale on at Target. I needed some new bathroom things. Your dad has started to rip out the tub and toilet. We're upgrading! Can't wait to have a rainfall shower.”
“Okay, well, I won't keep you, since Aunt Marie is there.”
“Dad really liked his birthday,” she keeps talking. “He's been wearing that jersey every day.”
“I hope not while he's doing renovations.”
“Oh, no. No. He's so proud of that. What a good gift for him, and to bring Devin to dinner; your dad is still talking about it. Thanks for making his day special. Devin is a nice man. He and Dad get along perfectly, like they'd known each other for years,” she says with giddiness. “And his manners! You can tell his mom brought him up right. What's going on with you two? Are you dating? Aunt Marie wants to know.”
“And you don't?” Carla teases.
“I always want to know.”
“Nothing,” Carla says simply.
“You can't tell me that! Nothing? I don't believe it.”
“It's true.”
“Are you friends?”
“I don't think I can call it that,” Carla says, gathering the cord and releasing it and gathering it again unconsciously. “We're not even friends. We know each other. I asked him to do me a favor and stop by the house for Dad's birthday. I didn't know he'd stay for dinner,” Carla adds. “I was hoping he would; for Dad, that is.”