“I already have two Stanley Cups. Endangering you or the baby isn’t worth my last chance.”
I read and re-read the text message, having no idea what to do with it. “Don’t do this. Tell them you’re good to play. There’s no reason to make this sacrifice because I’m NEVER coming back.”
His reply takes a lot longer this time. But when it comes, it hits me like a punch. “If there is even 1% chance you return to me then it is worth season.”
I choke. No one—and I mean no one has ever done anything this big for me.
That he would be willing to give up his last season.
Just to be with me.
Just to protect me.
He is everything my absent father and horrible brother aren’t.
And for a few moments, I’m overwhelmed with clashing emotions. But eventually, sensible accountant Billie makes me type, “There is no percent chance!!!!”
This time he doesn’t answer.
And eventually, I decide it doesn’t matter. Our crazy relationship is done. And though Cheslav plays to conquer, he’s going to have to figure out how to move forward without me in his life. Just like how I have figured out how to keep it moving without him.
That’s my decision. And it’s final. I’m no longer an idiot who believes in modern day fairytales. My mind is totally made up.
Yet, on the morning of my second prenatal appointment, Cheslav comes back from his morning run to find me waiting on his couch. Directly in front of his chess set.
“Wh-what are you doing here?” he asks. God, he looks handsome. I realize he must have been grooming just for me. He has a full-on beard now, and his dark hair is sticking to his sweaty face, which means he probably hasn’t hit it with his electric razor since I left.
“Apparently, you never took me off the family list for this place. The doorman didn’t stop me, and Vlad wasn’t manning the elevator,” I answer. Then I hold up a chess piece. “Wanna play?”
Cheslav hesitates, glancing from the chess set to me as if he’s trying to figure out if this is a dream.
But then he says, “Da, I will play. Let me wash up first.”
He disappears down the hallway and comes back just a few minutes later. The sweat is gone, and he’s wearing a beanie over his unshorn curls. He’d almost put me in mind of a hipster if his eyes weren’t boring into me. Green and intense. Not laidback at all.
“Cool,” I say. “Since you like to gamble so much, let’s make a little wager—oh, that’s right. You never bet little, and you always bet big. So let’s make a big bet.”
I pause, pretending to consider possible stakes. “If I win, you agree to whatever custody arrangement I want.”
Shock flits across his face but is quickly replaced with a hard, determined look. “So this is about custody. And if I win?”
“If you win, then you get another five days with me,” I answer.
His expression darkens. “Only five days?”
“I’m told that’s how long it takes to get someone out of your system,” I answer, my face just as hard, if not harder than his.
He regards me for a long time. Then he says, “Da, I will take your bet, Billie.”
Billie, not krasotka. I can tell he really means business.
He plays aggressive and fast. He knocks over all of my pawns in less than five minutes, and just a few minutes after that, his knight is perfectly poised to take my queen.
But instead of moving his knight to a space where he can easily knock my queen over, he moves his king into checkmate. Which means that though I’ve only got three pieces left on the board, I can totally take his king and win the game.
And this can’t be a mistake on his part, I realize with a shock. No, it’s not a sloppy or ill-considered move. He did it on purpose.
“But why?” I ask him. “Why would you purposefully throw the game?”
“Because I do not wish to play any more games with you, krasotka,” Cheslav answers, his voice hard and final. “I love you, and I want to be with you. And I already know five days will not be enough. If I cannot have you for whole lifetime, then I will not have you at all.”
“Oh…” I answer.
I glance up at him then back at the chess piece.
Then I shrug and knock over his king. “In that case, I win! Suck it, Loser!”
He sits back, his jaw tight. “What is custody agreement you want?”
“What do I want?” I grin back at him, not bothering to hide the triumphant gleam in my eyes. “I want you to promise never to lie to me again about anything, then I want you to agree to marry me and raise this child together as a family. That’s the custody agreement that I want.”