The Final Move

by Victoria Denault

  The other two bedrooms are fair sizes and share a nice bathroom between them. She makes a face as she walks from one bedroom through the bathroom and into the other. I’m panicked suddenly that she’s changing her mind about staying here. I know it’s stark—just a queen bed on a metal frame and a dresser—but surely it has to be more appealing than a motel in Jersey.

  “Which room is Conner’s?” she asks me.

  “This one. See the teddy bear on the bed? That’s Sid. He’s Conner’s favorite. He brings him every time he comes over,” I explain.

  Callie smiles at that but then her face gets serious. “Sid isn’t enough, Dev. This room is stark and bare. It’s unwelcoming.”

  “Well, it’s not permanent,” I say defensively.

  “He doesn’t get that,” she replies and starts pointing around the room. “There should be toys over there and a poster of something he likes above the bed, and some color. Something fun and happy. He has to stay here. He should feel comfortable.”

  “You think that will make him want to sleep here?”

  She nods emphatically and pats my shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it,” she tells me and turns to Conner, who is sitting on the hardwood floor. He looks up at her. She walks over and squats down in front of him. “I’m going to go get my stuff and check out of my motel and then I’ll come back and we can have a campout! Does that sound like fun?”

  “A campout?” he asks in his inquisitive three-year-old voice.

  She smiles brightly “Yep. We’ll make a fort in the living room and eat s’mores and have a sleepover.”

  “With Mommy and Daddy?” he asks hopefully.

  “Daddy will be there but Mommy can’t be,” she says simply, like it’s no big deal at all. “But you’ll have me and Sid. Is that okay?”

  He thinks about it for all of three seconds and grins. “Okay!”

  Callie stands up and smiles at me. “I’ll be back in a couple hours.”

  She starts for the stairs. I don’t know for sure that this sleepover idea is going to work but Conner honestly seems okay with it.

  “There’s an extra set of keys on the table in the hall. And Callie?” She glances up at me, her long, dark hair dangling behind her. “Thank you.”

  She smiles. “Don’t thank me.”

  She disappears out the door. I pick up Conner and carry him down to the living room. I feel better. Not much better, but a little bit better. And I’ll take anything right now.

  Chapter 4

  Callie

  My first day on my new show was coming to an end. It had lasted fourteen hours. I was used to the long hours from previous wardrobe jobs but the jet lag and the chill of New York fall—which feels freezing to me thanks to my years in Los Angeles—and the crick in my neck from sleeping on Devin’s living room floor under a bedsheet, broom and cushion tent with Conner made the day harder than normal.

  Luckily, on my way in this morning Rose had called me back. I’d left her two messages last night. Luc’s team was on an eastern road trip and she and some of the other wives and girlfriends—WAGs, as they were nicknamed in hockey—had tagged along to bond with each other and go to the games. Last night they’d been in Boston. Tomorrow they would be in Philly. I told her about Devin and Ashleigh. It was a horrible conversation to have with her, and listening to her relay it all to Luc made it even worse, but it had to be done.

  “Are you absolutely positive?” Rose had asked me after I heard Luc in the background repeating “No way. No fucking way. She’s mistaken. Ashleigh would never.”

  “Well, I didn’t actually see her banging him, but when I accused her of it, she didn’t deny it or even try to look innocent or shocked,” I replied, exasperated. “What does Luc want me to do, go back and get cell phone pictures of his dick actually inside her?”

  “Callie!” Rose complained. She’s never been as crass as I am. “I don’t know…I just…I think he can’t believe she would do this to Devin. I know I can’t.”

  “He deserves to know,” I said firmly.

  “Callie.” Luc was suddenly the voice on the other end of my cell; clearly he had taken the phone from Rose. “It’s just a lot to take in. I’ll…I’ll deal with it. I’ll help Devin…but give me a minute to figure out what to do, okay?”

  “Sure. Yeah,” I told him.

  “And you’re staying with him?” he reconfirmed.

  “Yep. Until he kicks me out…which may be the second he finds out I told you,” I replied.

  “It’ll be fine. You did the right thing,” Luc told me, and it made me feel slightly better.

  I got a text from Rose around noon and she said Luc was handling it. I didn’t ask details because I didn’t want to know. It was a family matter and I trusted Luc to be able to handle it. Luc had lived with the Garrisons as a teenager so he was basically family. And I knew it would be easier for Devin if Luc helped him than his brothers Jordan and Cole. Devin, Jordan and Cole have some weird competitive vibe between them that Devin and Luc don’t.

  I wave good-bye to the producer and the set designer. The sun is in the process of setting and the sky is a gorgeous golden color. I haven’t seen much of the East Coast yet but I do have to say it’s full of pretty colors. There’s vibrant fall foliage, bright blue skies, golden sunrises and kaleidoscope sunsets. It’s different, but equally beautiful, scenery-wise, as L.A. Now if only it weren’t so chilly.

  All I want to do is head back to Devin’s, crawl into my bed in the guest room and sleep. I have to be back on set by eight tomorrow morning and that’s almost less than twelve hours away, but I need to fix something first.

  I follow my GPS to the closest toy store. I also manage to make it to the paint store minutes before it closes for the night. I make one last stop at a sports store, knowing Devin will kick my ass for buying the poster I purchase, but it’s worth it.

  Devin has a game tonight. Conner is back with Ashleigh. My credit card is in the hole for more than a hundred and fifty dollars, but if it makes that precious, blond angel smile, it’s worth it.

  I lug the bags into the house and head straight to Conner’s room. As I begin to take my purchases out of the bags, I think about Ashleigh again.

  She knew getting into a marriage with Devin how important kids were to him. Devin loves his family. He wanted one of his own for probably as long as I’ve known him. And I know he made that clear to Ashleigh from day one. She herself had talked about wanting a little girl next, almost immediately after Conner was born. And when he met her, she was about to graduate from her education program and wanted to work with kids. She always looked at Devin like he hung the fucking moon. What the hell changed?

  I start to open the small can of red paint and unwrap the paint roller I bought. Then I move Conner’s dresser away from the wall and throw down some newspaper I grabbed from a newsstand by the toy store.

  It’s almost 11:30 p.m. when I finally finish decorating Conner’s room. My brow furrows a little bit. Devin should be home from his game by now. I think about calling him but decide against it. I assume he and his teammates have decided to either celebrate their win or commiserate their loss. Either way, the guy deserves to blow off a little steam. Exhausted, and fighting a headache, I head into the guest room and collapse onto my bed.

  Chapter 5

  Devin

  We won, and for the first time all season, I actually had a lot to do with it. It was a 3–1 victory over the Comets and I had a goal and two assists. I was the first star of the game for the first time this season. Being that we were a month in, I felt like it was a much overdue accomplishment.

  Everyone knows I am competitive, but no one knows just how much. Every game I play, I strive—and flat out work—to be the best player on our team. I don’t think that is much of a secret, but what was a secret is that I also have another goal every game—to get more points than the best player on the opposite team.

  Levi Casco is the Comets’ golden child. My inner secre
t mission tonight was to get more points than him—and I had. When we play the Winterhawks, I try to get more points than Jordan—because my brother can never, ever beat me. It ruins my night if he does¸ which, sadly, happens a lot more often than I would like since he joined the NHL.

  The reporters came in and I gave a few decent sound bites, talking about strategies and giving credit where credit was due. Alex Larue, who had been traded to our team from the Winterhawks last summer, was a rock star out there tonight. And Mitchell Lupo—or Loops, as we called him—had been on fire, keeping all but one of the thirty-three shots out of the net.

  After the reporters left and I showered, I started thinking about what had been my personal turning point. For the last few weeks—since I moved into my own brownstone—I had been floundering on the ice. My shots were missing the net, I was turning over pucks, and I was taking stupid penalties. Not all the time, not a full-on meltdown, but enough that the coaches were concerned, and I was too. But today—everything was almost back to normal. I was back to making smart, controlled passes, my shots hit the net and I didn’t take a single penalty.

  I figure it had to do with Callie. Well, her impact on Conner. He was so happy last night and it was the first night he actually stayed the whole night with me. And subsequently, it was the first night I got a decent amount of sleep. Night after night I lay in that memory foam, pillow-topped, king-size bed in a beautiful master suite and couldn’t get more than a couple of hours of sleep in a row. Last night I’d slept on the couch, with a bedsheet tented above me as a roof and my kid and Callie sprawled out on the floor below me, and I slept like the dead for seven hours straight. It wasn’t a normal night, by any means, but it was the most normal I had felt in a long time.

  Was it because my kid had finally settled down? Was it because I wasn’t alone in a big room with nothing but my thoughts? Was it because someone finally knew my big, shameful secret? Was it because sharing that secret hadn’t resulted in pitiful stares or words of scorn or judgment—either internally by my own traitorous brain or externally by Callie? Or was it that Callie Caplan, as usual, has this weird way of unnerving me and making me feel stable at the very same time? She had been doing that to me since we were kids. It’s probably all of that to varying degrees. Whatever the cause, I’m just extremely grateful for the end result.

  As I’m buttoning up my shirt and tucking it into my suit pants, our assistant coach, Phil Tucker, walks in.

  “Hey, Garrison,” he says in an upbeat voice. “Luc Richard is here to see you.”

  I spin around quickly with a completely shocked and confused look on my face.

  “He said to tell you he would meet you in the parking lot. He’s got a pretty little thing with him too.”

  “Rose,” I murmur and hurry to finish dressing.

  Luc and Rose obviously know Callie is here so maybe they came to see her. I know his team is playing in Philly tomorrow, and had probably flown in last night, so he was in the area. But why is Rose with him? Although it isn’t unusual for him to meet up with me when his team is out this way, he usually calls first.

  I drape my suit jacket over my arm and nod good-bye to the guys left in the locker room. As I head down the hall toward the player exit that leads to the reserved parking lot, another potential reason for their visit has me stutter-step. Callie told them about Ashleigh and me. As soon as the thought pops into my head, I know it’s the truth. Damn her.

  When I get to the parking lot and see Luc and Rose, my worst fear is confirmed. I can tell before anyone even says anything. Rose’s eyes are wide and sad. Luc’s are narrowed with concern. I stop abruptly a few feet away. Rose comes rushing over to me and hugs me, but I don’t hug her back.

  “Your sister has a big mouth.”

  “Don’t be mad at her, Dev,” Rose begs me, her cheek against my chest as she clings to me. “She can’t keep secrets and she’s worried about you!”

  “Callie did the right thing, Dev,” Luc says as he steps forward and pulls his girlfriend off me, obviously knowing this kind of sympathetic outpouring is exactly what I don’t want. “You should have told us—and your parents, and Jordan, and Cole.”

  “It’s not your business,” I reply coldly.

  “You are our business, dumbass,” Luc counters firmly. “We could have helped you.”

  I shake my head. “There’s no help needed. It’s fine. We’re working it out.”

  They both give me skeptical looks.

  “Are you going to counseling?” Rose asks meekly.

  “We couldn’t fit it in this week, or last week, but we’ll go soon.”

  “Are you fucking around?” Luc asks, and Rose looks just as shocked as I do that he would think he has to ask that.

  “Luc, fuck you.”

  “It’s not unheard of, Devin. We all know there are girls in every city who throw themselves at professional athletes. If your wife isn’t…”

  “Luc!” I snap. “I am not cheating on my wife.”

  “Is she cheating on you?”

  “What?!” I seriously want to punch him. “No!”

  “Are you sure?” he asks quietly, his tone deadly serious.

  I stare at him, anger spreading like hot lava through my body, and then I turn to Rose, who has been suspiciously silent. When I catch her big, dark eyes, she looks away instantly.

  “What?” I ask harshly.

  Rose continues to look at the pavement. Luc takes a step toward me, his hands buried deep in his pockets and his shoulders slumped forward. “Devin…Callie thinks she saw something when she dropped in on Ash the other day.”

  “She doesn’t think,” Rose finally speaks. “She knows she saw something.”

  “Saw what? Where?” I demand, getting frustrated and, if I’m honest, slightly frightened by where this conversation may be going. “Could you two just spit it out, for fuck’s sake? I want to get home and get some rest.”

  “When Cal went to your house yesterday, there was a guy there with Ashleigh,” Luc blurts out.

  “Who?”

  “She didn’t ask,” Rose explains in a strained voice. “Ashleigh told him to leave right away.”

  “Maybe it was a plumber,” I say and my mouth is incredibly dry. “The sink in Conner’s bathroom has been dripping.”

  “Callie accused Ashleigh of sleeping with him,” Luc announces in a pained voice. “And she didn’t deny it.”

  “And she was in a bathrobe,” Rose whispers.

  I stand motionless. I don’t know what to do or say. I don’t know what to feel. This can’t be right. Callie has to be wrong. Every possible emotion is ripping through me: embarrassment, fear, rage, betrayal and humiliation.

  I start toward the street.

  “Devin! Where are you going?”

  “Where the fuck do you think?” I holler back and storm to the subway station a block away.

  Her car is at the curb when I storm up the street. I don’t bother ringing the bell or knocking—first of all, it would wake Conner, and second of all, it’s my fucking house. I use the key I still have and open the door.

  The front entry is dark. I clench my keys tightly in my hand and head for the back of the house. The kitchen is straight ahead and the family room is attached to it. I can see light coming from that direction. I enter the kitchen and hear her before I see her. She’s laughing quietly. It’s a throaty, sexy, soft sound and it makes my blood run cold—because the only person I’ve ever heard her make that sound for before is me.

  Our big chocolate-brown leather couch is positioned facing the fireplace with its back to the kitchen, where I’m standing. I see her feet hanging off the side of the couch. She’s wearing her favorite monkey slipper socks.

  “I really needed that laugh,” she says with a smile in her voice. “But I should go…Of course I miss you but…”

  I drop my keys loudly on the granite countertop of our kitchen island. She jumps and her head pops up over the back of the couch, her cell phone falling from he
r ear.

  “Who are you talking to?” I ask, my voice so low and menacing, I know why she looks terrified. She picks up the phone again as she stands up.

  “I have to call you later. Devin is here. Talk to you later, Kayleigh.” She ends the call and actually has the nerve to place her hands on her hips and try to look indignant. “What the hell?! You can’t just barge in here in the middle of the night!”

  “It’s my fucking house. I can do whatever I want,” I growl back. I grip the granite countertop in order to stop the rage from making my hands tremble.

  Ashleigh walks into the kitchen and stands on the other side of the island, her back against the sink.

  “Who was that?”

  “Kayleigh.”

  I swallow hard. “So if I look in your call log and hit redial, Kayleigh will answer the fucking phone?”

  “Devin, are you drunk?” she accuses. I can’t help but notice she’s clutching the phone tightly. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Are you fucking someone else?”

  Her eyes narrow angrily. “Get out.”

  “No.”

  “Devin. Get. Out.” She’s furious—and still clutching her phone.

  I take a step toward her and extend my hand. “Give me your phone.”

  “Get out. Now!” She raises her voice as high as she can without waking Conner.

  “When I see your sister’s phone number in your fucking call log, I will leave,” I promise and we stare at each other for a long silent second.

  Her long, narrow fingers are still wrapped tightly around her fucking iPhone. I slam my hand down on the island. The crystal bowl Jessie sent us for our wedding, which Ashleigh keeps filled with apples, jiggles from the force. Ashleigh jumps and lets out a fearful squeak.