The Hockey Star's Regret

Oscar

Nathan stood in his closet staring at the suit his grandmother had sent over. Dark navy. Italian fabric. A collar pin. It looked exquisite.

The dinner at the Nelson's estate was at 7:30 PM. Twenty guests. Finalize the engagement. Sign the preliminary agreements. Meet his future wife.

He had not spoken to Leila in five days.

Five days of silence. The longest stretch in five years. She had texted him on Friday. Then Saturday. Then Sunday. Three texts total.

"Hey, haven't heard from you. You good?"

"Nate?"

"Are you seriously ignoring me right now?"

He had read all three. He had not replied.

His phone buzzed. Eleanor.

"Do not be late. The Nelsons do not wait."

He set the phone down and looked at himself in the mirror. He looked like a man walking to his own funeral. Which, in a way, he supposed he was.

Nathan picked up his car keys. Then put them down. Then picked them up again.

He told himself he was going to drive to the Nelson house early. Scope it out. Prepare mentally. That was the plan.

But his hands turned the wheel toward Leila's training facility instead.

He told himself it was closure. Another conversation. If she would listen, he would tell her everything. The inheritance. The deadline. The arranged marriage. All of it. Lay it on the table and let her reaction decide whatever was left to decide.

If she wouldn't listen, then he would drive to the Nelson house with a clear conscience.

That was the plan.

The training facility was a thirty-minute drive from his apartment. He knew the route by hand. He had driven it hundreds of times. Early morning pickups. Late night drop-offs. Some runs at midnight when she pushes too hard.

He parked in the lot and sat in the car for ten minutes.

Players started filtering out. He recognized some of them. Leila's teammates. A few nodded in his direction. They knew him. He was Leila's guy. The manager. The one who always waited.

Leila finally walked out.

She was in her training gear. Hair tied back. Duffel bag over one shoulder. Water bottle in hand. She was laughing at something a teammate said, her whole face bright.

Nathan stepped out of the car.

She saw him immediately. Her smile faltered. Just for a second. Then it came back.

"Nate."

"Hey."

They stood there. Five feet apart. A distance that had never existed between them before.

"You look different," she said.

"I need to talk to you."

She adjusted the bag on her shoulder. "Okay. About what?"

"About us. About everything. Can we go somewhere and…"

Her phone rang.

They both looked at it. She pulled it from her jacket pocket. Her eyes went wide when she saw the screen.

"Sorry, sorry, I have to take this." She answered. "Oscar?"

Nathan went cold.

Oscar. The name that had lived like a ghost in their relationship for five years. Leila's first love. The one who left for Europe right after college and never came back. The one she still kept in touch with. The one Nathan had always pretended not to mind.

"What? When? How long have you been back?" Leila was pacing now, her free hand gesturing wildly. "Wait, you're at the airport right now? Which airport? International? Terminal three?"

Nathan closed his eyes.

"Okay, okay, stay there. Don't move. I'm coming to get you." She hung up and turned to Nathan with an expression he knew too well. Excitement. The look she got when something mattered to her.

"Oscar is back."

"I heard."

"He just landed. He's stranded at the airport. His ride fell through."

"Leila.."

"Can you drive me?"

Nathan stared at her. She had not asked about the talk. She had not asked what was wrong. She had not noticed the suit hanging in his backseat. She had not asked why he had been silent for five days.

One question. Oscar. That was all it took.

"I really need to talk to you first," Nathan said.

"It'll be quick. The airport is forty minutes. We talk on the way. Please, Nate. He just got back from abroad. He has nobody here."

Nathan had nobody here too. But that was not the kind of thing Leila noticed.

"Fine," he said.

She smiled. Full this time. The smile that used to make him feel like the only man in the room.

"Thank you. You're the best. Let me just tell the girls I'm leaving."

She jogged back inside the facility. Nathan stood by the car and pressed his forehead against the roof.

He could still drive away. He could still go to the Nelson dinner. He could still choose himself for once.

But Leila was already walking back toward him, bag swinging, phone in hand, typing a message to someone. Probably Oscar.

She got in the passenger seat and buckled in. "Okay. Let's go. Terminal three, international arrivals."

Nathan started the car.

They did not talk on the way. She always interrupts him, focusing only on her phone.

She scrolled through her phone. Texting. Smiling at the screen. Occasionally laughing softly at something. Nathan kept his eyes on the road and his mouth shut.

He thought about the dinner. The navy suit. Samantha Nelson. The signatures. The blueprint his grandmother had mapped out for him.

He thought about five years. The beach in Malibu. The trophy case. The apartment. His knee on the floor.

He thought about the hallway. The cracked door. "Making Nathan fall in love with me was too easy."

The airport came into view shortly. Nathan pulled into the international arrivals pickup zone. Cars were lined up. Drivers waiting with signs. Families hugging.

Leila was out of the car before he fully stopped.

"Nate, come on!"

He turned off the engine and followed her inside. The arrivals hall was loud and crowded. People pressed against the barriers, scanning the sliding doors.

Leila stood on her toes, searching the crowd.

Then the doors opened.