Hoops Holiday (Hoops 2.50)

“We haven’t spoken as much lately either,” Zo continues, a defensive note creeping into his voice.

It’s true. Since he retired, he has withdrawn from the public eye as he shored up his health in preparation for next year’s aggressive schedule.

“I know,” I say, a more natural smile melting away the fake one. “And I’m glad I haven’t had to bother you. It sounds like your medical team is on top of making sure you’re ready for next year.”

Zo searches my face, looking for clues to how I’m really feeling.

Leave it alone, Zo.

After the initial shock of hearing about Graciela’s pregnancy, I’m settling into what should have been my first response. Happiness for him.

“It’s amazing,” I tell Graciela, but for Zo’s benefit. I pick up the menu and find the salad I have enough points for. “Mama will be delighted. She was so concerned about this when you were in treatment. I’m glad you prepared for this.”

“And we didn’t even have to use the sperm he set aside,” Graciela says with a chuckle. “We weren’t even trying. Can you believe that?”

“I can’t believe it,” I murmur through numb li

ps. “That’s amazing.”

I’m not sure how many times I can say “amazing” before it starts sounding insincere. And I do mean it. I am happy for them. I’m just not happy for me. Zo, who’s sperm the doctors said would probably never produce children, wasn’t even trying and has a baby on the way. I’m doing everything short of a virgin sacrifice, and nothing.

I’m able to set aside my selfish peevishness and get through lunch. Over a delicious meal, we discuss their plans for Christmas at the orphanage and, more extensively, the book Zo has been writing and the travel schedule I’ve started organizing for next year.

“So after the holidays,” I say, pushing aside the remnants of my salad. “We go to New York and meet with publishers. I have ten lined up ready to hear our pitch, but we’re really the ones considering them. Everyone will want your story, Zo.”

“If I can stay healthy long enough to tell it.” Zo says it lightly, but I know him well enough to hear the real fear in his voice. I was there when the doctor diagnosed him with amyloidosis. It was a death sentence, one he’ll be outrunning the rest of his life. It’s easy for me to say he’ll be fine; that he should take risks and experiment, but he’s the one who has flatlined and been brought back. He’s the one who lived through chemo and the debilitation of stem cell replacement. Him sitting at this table is a miracle.

His baby is a miracle.

“I need to use the bathroom one more time before we go,” Graciela says, her dark eyes meeting Zo’s in a private contentment only they can share. “The story of my life lately. I’ll be right back.”

I snatch the bill off the table before Zo can grab it.

“I’m expensing it,” I say, stuffing my card in the leather sleeve and handing it to the server. “So back off my bill.”

He shakes his head and smiles, but concern quickly replaces the humor in his eyes.

“I was going to tell you, Bannini,” he says softly.

“Please.” I hold up a hand to stop whatever he’s about to say. “Don’t feel bad at all. It’s your news to share as you see fit. When you see fit. It’s fine.”

“No one was more shocked than me. When Gracie turned up pregnant, I couldn’t believe it at first.”

“If anyone deserves a miracle, it’s you, Zo.”

“It’ll happen for you, too.”

I can’t bear the sympathy in his eyes one more second. As soon as the server returns with my card, I sign and stand.

“I need to get back to the office,” I say abruptly.

He stands, too, immediately dwarfing me. I punch one well-muscled bicep.

“Welcome to the gun show,” I tease. “You sure you’re done with ball? Looks like you could still hold your own out there.”

“Looks can be deceiving.” He loops an arm around my neck and pulls me close. “He still treating you right, Bannini?”

He’s only half-joking. He’s as concerned about my happiness as I am for his.