by Sarina Bowen
If my team had just won the Cup, that’s not the face I’d be wearing.
Then she spots Nate, and her eyes widen. The moment yawns open between them, long and awkward.
I wonder what he sees. Someone he hates? Or someone he will always love.
“Hi,” she says slowly, shaking off her surprise. “God. I’m so sorry about that story in the Post. The reporter called and I told her to go find a real story. I hung up on her.”
“It’s okay,” Nate says evenly. “Wasn’t the first dumb thing anyone ever wrote about me. And it won’t be the last.”
“Well…” Juliet starts to say something, but she’s interrupted by a gruff male voice yelling from down the hall.
“Yo. Juliet! Where the fuck did you go?”
“Uh…” Her eyes dart nervously down the corridor before returning to Nate’s. “I’m sorry anyway. It was shitty.” She swallows hard. “You look good. I hope you’re doing well.”
“Can’t complain at all.” His palm heats the center of my back, and his thumb strokes my new purple sweater. “And, uh, you look great, too. Congratulations, by the way.”
“Juliet!” a man’s voice snarls. “Get the fuck down here!”
She opens her mouth to reply, but then a thick-necked, red-faced player appears. Bart Palacio. As he takes in our little group of three, his lips curl into a sneer. “Am I interrupting something?”
“No,” Juliet says quickly, her face reddening. “Of course not.”
“So get your fat ass back here.” He jerks a thumb toward the crowded corridor. “Picture time.”
Then he actually reaches for her wrist and drags her body away from us.
I just stare after the two of them for a moment. My mouth is hanging open. “What the hell was that? Who speaks to his wife that way?”
When I turn toward Nate, he looks stricken. “Jesus,” he says on an exhale. “He’s worse than I remember.”
I feel outrage on behalf of a woman I don’t even like. I’m not sure she even noticed me standing there, either. And I just don’t even care.
Because she said no to a life with Nate for that asshole. I can’t imagine why anyone would do that.
I’ll never make the same mistake.
“Car’s here!” Gary says suddenly. “Let’s roll.”
When he opens the door, Nate and I step out into the night. The crowd outside strains forward, looking to see who’s emerged. They’ll be largely disappointed, because they’re waiting for their Dallas victors. But a few people point phones at us while Gary does his level best to block me from harm during the twenty-foot walk to the car.
Mere seconds later the doors shut and the locks engage. The car drives away from the curb.
Gary has hopped in front so it’s just the two of us in the back seat for this short drive.
“Are you okay?” I ask Nate, reaching across the leather seat to squeeze his hand.
He shakes himself. “Yeah, of course. It’s just…” He taps his lip. “That stupid article had a grain of truth to it. I had a lot of reasons for buying the team. But one of them, at least, was that I could just picture beating Dallas in the playoffs on their home ice. I don’t, like, sit around and think about her, though…”
“I know,” I say quickly.
He turns to me in the darkness. “But I always just assumed she was happier, you know? It’s worse that she isn’t. Never mind. I’m sorry to talk about her. That’s rude.”
“No! It isn’t. But I didn’t know smart girls could be so stupid.”
Nate snorts. “Smart people are stupid all the time. Ask me how I know.” He leans across the seat, hooks an arm around my hips, and tows me across the leather until we’re hip to hip. “Tonight has been rough so far. But maybe it’s salvageable.”
I don’t weigh in. I just tuck my cheek against his strong arm and sigh.
* * *
An hour later we’re happily ensconced in the Jacuzzi tub—the very same one I refused on principle to get into with him two weeks before.
There’s champagne in our glasses. Because fuck it—bubbly wine isn’t just for people who win. And Nate’s free hand is stroking my foot under water.
We’re quiet, but not sad. An odyssey has ended—for now. “There’s always next year,” I say, taking another sip.
From the other end of the tub he raises his glass in agreement. “We’ll be there to see it. Together.”
This makes me feel all warm and bubbly inside. “Even if I’m working someplace else, I wouldn’t miss sitting in the box with you.”
“Speaking of making plans,” he says, setting his glass down on the ledge. “I have a proposition I want to discuss with you.”
“What’s that?” But I know what he’s about to say. He is going to come up with some reason or another that I shouldn’t look for another job. I still have to consider it, though.
Nate reaches up and grabs a washcloth off the ledge. And from inside it he pulls a very small box. It looks like…
“Holy crap!” I hear myself say. Because that can’t be what I think it is.
Nate opens the box with his thumb. And maybe it’s the expensive Ritz lighting but the diamond that pops into view is dazzling. And large. And dazzling.
“Rebecca. Sweetheart—”
Sweetheart.
“Will you marry me? I know it’s fast. But it isn’t, really. Seven years seems like plenty of time to figure out that you’re my favorite person in the world. And I don’t want to go another year without you.”
I would love to answer him, but I can’t speak. My eyes get blurry—which does nothing to diminish the sparkle of that diamond—and there’s something caught in my throat.
He’s waiting.
I don’t even hesitate. I’m done searching my soul, when the answer has been right in front of me this whole time. I scramble to lift my rump off the floor of the tub and wiggle toward him. I’m straddling his lap, and he has to lift the ring out of the way when I splash forward to look him right in the eye at close range. “Y-yes,” I stammer, feeling more certain than I sound. “I will.”
Those light brown eyes smile, and he leans forward a few inches to kiss me. “Thank you,” he says between kisses. “My timing is weird, but…”
I kiss him again. I’m done worrying about our timing, too.
“Bec.” He laughs against my lips. “Don’t you want to see the ring? You could choose any style you want…”
“It’s beautiful,” I say even before I get a proper look. And it is. When he slides it onto my finger, I see that it’s a vintage setting—a cushion cut diamond surrounded by more tiny stones. “Wow. Fancy. I love it so much.”
An engagement ring from Nate. On my finger.
When I look up at him again, the view of his face is even more beautiful. His eyes look damp, and he’s smiling at me like he just won…the Stanley Cup. “I love you,” he whispers.
“I love you, too.” I’m holding my hand so carefully above the water because I can’t imagine letting such a precious thing out of my sight.
His smile becomes amused. “It’s okay if it gets wet, you know.”
“Not with me,” I squeak. “There’s a small fortune on my finger.”
“It’s insured.”
Still.
“Listen, I know I just blew your mind a little bit, but I need to blow it some more,” he says.
“Okay?” I can’t imagine there’s anything he could say right now more shocking than a marriage proposal. And to think I had written off tonight as a disaster.
Nate takes my hand and holds it, admiring his handiwork. “Marrying me is more complicated than dating me. There’s paperwork.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” I say, kissing him on the nose. “I’ll sign whatever prenup your lawyer can dream up.”
He flinches. “There has to be a prenup. Can I tell you why?”
“Because you have a billion dollars?”
“That’s not why.” He smiles at me again, and it’s ha
rd to concentrate. “It’s because of my voting rights. If someone thought the power structure of KTech could be put into play by our divorce, then someone might decide he has millions to gain by breaking us up.”
“Oh,” I say slowly. “That’s creepy.” My mind doesn’t usually leap right to the worst-case scenario. Although, after witnessing Juliet’s fucktard of a husband tonight, I was more primed than usual to understand that creeps exist.
“Yeah,” he says gently. “So the prenup will have to give me all my KTech shares. But I don’t think you’ll care, because there’s a wedding gift I want to give you. And it’s important to me that you accept it.”
“Um…I don’t need anything, Nate. I never really cared about your big bucks, except I don’t mind when you pick up the dinner check.”
His warm, wet palm slides down my smiling face. “I know,” he whispers, and the sound of his voice vibrates in my chest.
I wonder if we can have this conversation later, because we should be starting up the celebration sex right about now. His strong chest glistens with droplets of water, and I’m suddenly inspired to lick it all off.
“The gift you’re getting is a certain hockey franchise. They made a recent run at the championship, and I think they’ll continue to flourish under new leadership.”
“What?” I say stupidly. I’m getting the sex tingles, and Nate is somehow talking about hockey again.
“You’re going to be the new owner of the Brooklyn Bruisers. You won’t be shtupping the boss anymore. But I expect to have sex in your office at least once.”
My poor little brain can’t quite wrap itself around this idea. “Own…the team?” That makes no sense.
“Yeah, baby. You’ll be great. I’ve had a good run, and you’re going to be able to give it more attention than I probably should. And nobody loves the Bruisers more, right? So why not you?”
“Because it’s yours?”
“Not for long.” He shakes his head and smiles at me. “I need you more than I need to own the team. And I want you to have it. We might have to get married before I can sign it over. It’s because of gift taxes. Or something. My accountant can explain it to you.”
Now I’m officially done. There is no more shocking information that I can take in tonight. But maybe I don’t have to. We kiss again and again. Then Nate hits the switch to drain the tub. He urges me to my feet. I can’t even grab a towel before he steers my dripping body toward the bed, pushes me onto that soft cloud, and wraps his body around mine.
* * *
“I still have some questions,” I admit as we lay in bed, cuddling and making plans. Or trying, anyway. There’s a lot of kissing that gets in the way of the planning. Also, I have to stop every couple of minutes to admire the way my ring shines even in the dark.
“Shoot,” Nate says, hugging me closer.
“Are your parents going to be upset?”
“About what? My mom loves you. Everyone loves you. We’ve been over this.”
“But I’m a shiksa. Don’t they want you to marry a nice Jewish girl?”
He runs a finger down my nose. “News flash—my mom isn’t Jewish. Marrying shiksas is already a family tradition.”
“Really?” I had no idea.
“Really. If that’s your big concern, we’re covered.”
I kiss his chin, because I can’t help myself. We may never get out of this bed, and that’s okay with me. “Nate,” I say between kisses. “I don’t know anything about being a team owner.”
“But you do. It’s a job where the major requirement is you pay attention and you care. And nobody cares more than you, Bec; you’re going to do great.”
“It’s just hard to picture.”
“Not for me. You can promote your intern and do less of the grunt work yourself. That frees up your time for more big-picture questions. Some of them are fun. Like—what focus would you choose for the foundation next year?”
“Head injury research,” I say immediately.
“See?” Nate’s laugh is gleeful. “Any work you do there is at least as important as hiring the right vendors in the stadium.”
“We’re in charge of the food? The cheese puffs are staying.”
Nate grins. “Luckily, I’m leaving you with no immediate problems to solve. Your stadium lease is good for another eight years, and Hugh Major and Coach aren’t going anywhere.”
“God I hope not.”
“Don’t worry! I’ll always help you. But it won’t take you long to realize you already know almost as much about owning a hockey team as I do. And baby—when we need answers, you’ll just hire some finance nerd or legal geek who knows.”
“I’m going to be in over my head sometimes.”
“Sure. Like anyone who ever tried something new. I have faith in you. That organization is better with you in it. My life is better with you in it.” He strokes my bare back with his long fingers and then whispers, “Please be my partner in this and all things.”
It’s a long time until we speak again after that. More loving happens.
I manage to exhaust both of us. Eventually Nate rolls onto his back, eyes closed, and asks: “Will you move in with me right away?”
“I…” As usual, I begin by assuming I should have an objection. “Sure.”
“You can change things in that house, you know. If you don’t like the setup, we’ll work on it. But if you don’t hate it too much, I’d like to stay. There’s enough room on the property for the security team to do its job.”
“Okay. I’m sure I can find a way to be comfortable in a few of your twelve rooms or however many there are.”
He strokes my hair. “I want you to feel at home, Bec. Not just be comfortable. But we’ll work on it. Meanwhile, your sister and her family will enjoy a little more room, right?”
“Right…” I say slowly. “I just signed a new lease. That ought to hold them a while.”
“Or forever,” Nate says. “There’s a note in your file not to raise the rent.”
“What?” My head pops off the pillow. “You own that building?”
“Sure. When I built the practice facility I bought up everything that was for sale in the neighborhood. And when you relocated to Brooklyn…”
“The Bruisers’ real estate agent showed me that apartment.” I’d thought it was just lucky that I’d found a reasonable rent so close to work. “That’s sneaky.”
Nate shakes his head. “You didn’t have to pick that place. But I was happy you did. It let me look out for you in a small way. You know—back when I loved you only from afar.” He puts a hand to his heart and makes a Mr. Darcy face, which makes me smile. “What kind of wedding do you want? You can pick anything.”
“Not sure yet. Many magazines will be consulted.” The poor man has no idea. “Can we keep it small?”
“Sure?”
“I mean—family, close friends, and the hockey team. With you it would be easy to end up accidentally inviting half of KTech and Goldman Sachs.”
“Why don’t we rent out a small hotel somewhere in the Caribbean and have a destination wedding?”
“That would be fun.”
“It keeps the numbers down and guarantees you’ll have to wear a bikini at least part of the time.”
“You have a one-track mind.”
“No—four.” He holds his hand up to count them off. “Tech. Hockey. Food. Rebecca.”
“That’s a lot like my list,” I whisper. “Food. Fashion. Hockey. Nate.”
“Three outa four ain’t bad,” he whispers. Then he kisses me again.
New York Wire
Sports Story of the Week
June 13, 2020
Team Owner Gets First Stanley Cup, First Child in Three-Hour Window
“Screaming is pretty common on the maternity ward,” Nurse Amalah Dawn of New York Presbyterian Brooklyn Methodist Hospital told The Wire. “But it’s usually about childbirth, and not about hockey.”
That changed last night, when Brooklyn Bru
isers team owner Rebecca Rowley Kattenberger, 30, watched her players win their first Stanley Cup since her husband—the tech mogul Nate Kattenberger, 35—first moved the franchise to Brooklyn five years ago.
Mrs. Kattenberger had planned to watch game six in Nashville with her team, but went into labor a few hours before she’d planned to fly down for the game.
“I thought—this is fine, it’s not a disaster,” Mrs. Kattenberger told The Wire via email. “If the series goes to game seven, the baby and I can make an appearance at the Brooklyn arena.”
But that’s not what happened. She watched a very exciting game six on the labor and delivery ward, while the medical team monitored her contractions.
“Labor did not progress rapidly,” Nurse Dawn reported. “That’s normal for a first birth. The doctor wanted to give her an oxytocin drip to move things along, but she said, ‘Not until the third period. What if we go into overtime?’”
Ultimately the team and the labor process both got their respective jobs done. Brooklyn broke a 2-2 tie with an early third period goal (Trevi, assisted by Castro) and followed it with another goal just ninety seconds later (Bayer, assisted by Drake). At the buzzer, they were the official champions.
The reaction from birthing room #407 was often loud and ultimately joyous.
“During a tense part of the game, we reassured nearby patients that everything was just fine. And when Brooklyn won, everyone on the ward was pretty excited,” Dawn said. “Rebecca’s baby waited. Things went much faster after we shut off the television. She was ready to push about two hours later, and the baby was born an hour after that.”
Rebecca Rowley Kattenberger and Nathan Kattenberger welcomed a seven-pound baby girl into the world at ten minutes past one in the morning. Her name has been withheld from the press, but the family is healthy and resting comfortably.
The Kattenbergers live in Brooklyn, where they will raise their daughter. Mrs. Kattenberger gave birth at the Brooklyn location of the New York Presbyterian Hospital group. Mrs. Kattenberger’s Brooklyn Bruisers Foundation raised ten million dollars for the pediatric wing of the hospital just this past year. Her hockey players also threw a holiday party on the premises in December.
