And we negotiate. They push. I push back. They increase the money. And when we’re done, I’m ready to float out of the room and all the way back to the Village, as if I have a thousand helium balloons tied to me.
As I sit on the subway train, my phone buzzes with another call. It’s Claude. Upping their offer.
I can’t hold back my triumphant smile but keep my voice calm. “I should tell you we have other offers on the table. I’m about to meet with Hunter shortly. We’ll get back to you.”
I could cry. I almost have to hold back the tears This is so fantastic for Hunter…but what’s he going to do? Is he going to freak out on me again? I don’t want this to be a trigger for him. But it’s such a great deal.
I’m both excited and afraid to tell him, but once I’m home I call.
“Okay,” I begin. “Can you come over? Or do you want me to come there? We have lots to talk about.”
“I’ll come there. See you soon.”
I lay papers out in front of me on my desk and look everything over. There are lots of details that need to be ironed out in all the offers, but I have no worries about any of those things. I’m just worried about Hunter.
If I wasn’t in love with him, this would be so much easier. If I was just his agent, I’d present the offers to him and he’d say yay or nay and I wouldn’t be worried about how he’s going to react. I messed things up by falling in love. I need to be able to do my job.
But the fact is, I do care. I can’t stop caring. I want him to be happy. I want him to get the contract he wants and deserves, the validation he needs. I know he had a late start as a pro hockey player, playing college hockey for four years instead of entering the draft, and I know why. And I know how hard he’s worked to prove himself since then.
Hunter arrives soon and walks in with an anticipatory smile. He kisses me then says, “I almost picked up a bottle of champagne on my way here, but I was worried that would jinx things.”
I smile. Of course he’d think that. Hockey players and their superstitions “Lots of time for champagne.”
“Is it good news or good news?” he asks, walking farther into my apartment.
“Well.” I get stuck here. Jesus.
“What?” He turns, frowning.
“It’s good, it’s good!” I wave my hands in the air. “But will you promise me something?”
His frown intensifies. “What?”
“Promise me you’ll hear me out. About everything. Okay?”
His eyes narrow. “Okay.”
I nod and walk over to my desk. “Okay. We have three offers.”
I tell him about my day, how I walked out and then heard back from the Leafs. The offer from Santa Monica. And…deep breath…the meeting with the Bears.
“Kate!” He stares at me. “I told you I’m not playing for them.”
“I know. But you said you’d hear me out.”
“You said you wouldn’t talk to them anymore!”
“And I haven’t! Until today. I had to meet with them.”
“No, you didn’t! You could have said no.”
“We don’t have to take the offer. But it’s a good offer. If you don’t want to play there, I can try to use it as a negotiating tool.”
He inhales sharply and lets out a long breath. “Okay.”
Now he’s tense. I can see the tightness in his mouth and eyes, the set of his shoulders. Shit.
We go over everything.
There’s no way the other two teams are going to come up to the level of the Bears. I can negotiate more, but I know it won’t happen.
“This has everything you want,” I tell Hunter quietly, referring to the Bears’ deal. “The term, the money. It gives you security. I think you’d fit into their long-term plans for the team, and there’s a great spot for you on their second line. There’s also the fact that you could stay in your apartment in Hoboken and not have to move. That’s something.”
He stands up and walks away from me. At the window, he shoves his hands into his pockets and looks out onto the street. For a long time, neither of us speak. Then he says, “You know why I won’t take that offer.”
“Yes.” I pause, gathering my thoughts. “But Hunter…are you absolutely sure about that?”
His shoulders tense. “You don’t understand.”
Oh God. “I know, I can never know what you went through. But…” I stop. I shouldn’t have said but. I know I shouldn’t have said it. I try to regroup. “And I know the idea of seeing those guys and playing with them makes you uncomfortable.” I almost say “but” again. “Maybe instead of running away from it or trying to ignore it, you could…face it.”
He whips around. “Are you telling me to face my fears? Seriously? You?”
I jerk back. “No, that’s not…I mean, maybe…”
“For Chrissake, Kate. You know me. You know I faced my fears. You know what I’ve overcome.”
“I do! And I respect that and admire you so, so much for that. I…” I pull in air. “I think maybe there’s still some stuff you need to overcome.”
“Oh, fuck that!”
I flinch again. This isn’t going well. I flail around mentally for a way to get things back on track. But Hunter’s pissed, his eyes flashing, his hands curled into fists.
“You don’t get to tell me to ‘face my fear’ and overcome shit.”
I feel like he just shoved the butt end of a hockey stick into my gut. The air whooshes out of my lungs, leaving me without air and the ability to speak.
“I told you I don’t want to play for that team, and you disregarded what I want. What kind of agent does that?”
I stare at him, blinking wildly. “I’m sorry,” I manage to say. “I told you, we don’t have to take the offer.”
“Oh sure, I’ll settle for what Santa Monica is offering. Two years.” He makes a face. “That’s all I’m worth, I guess.”
I straighten. “Oh, no. No, no, no. You don’t get to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Feel sorry for yourself. Nope. Uh-uh.” I stand and walk over to him. I feel terrible and I’m afraid I’ve messed up and I’ve hurt him, but dammit, he hurt me, and now he’s disparaging himself. He has his flaws, but I’m not standing for that. “You got a fantastic offer. You don’t want to play for that team. That’s your choice.” I point my finger at him, resisting the urge to stab it into his chest. “That offer is what you’re worth. If you don’t see that…if you don’t want to accept that because you’re afraid…that’s on you.”
He stares back at me. I watch his face as his eyes flicker, his lips press together. I don’t know what he’s thinking. But then he turns and walks to the door.
“Hunter! Where are you going?”
“I’m going home. I need to think.”
My shoulders slump. But that’s a reasonable request, I guess. Maybe it will do him good to think things through. “Okay.” My throat constricts and I clear it. “Call me if you want to talk or if you have questions.”