Page 43

"Look at him. He's Mr. Popularity down there." Igesture toward the ice with a nod of my head. "Since when do corporate sharks play babysitter?"
"Maybe he’s not all bad," Samantha offers with a shrug, but she's watching me more than the scene on the ice.
"Or maybe he's using the kids for a good PR shot," I counter, feeling the familiar twist of skepticism in my gut. I've seen charming men before, and they usually have an angle. "Tonight, I'll find out what he's really after."
"Tonight?" Samantha's voice pitches higher, surprise etching her features. "What's happening tonight?"
My mouth goes dry. I didn't mean to spill that. "He... uh, asked me to dinner."
"Victor?" Emily's eyes go wide. "As in a date?"
"No, not a date," I quickly correct, though my cheeks flame with heat. "It's just dinner. To talk about... community stuff." I fumble over my words, feeling cornered.
Samantha's lips twitch like she's fighting a smile. "Sure, 'community stuff.' That's why you're going to dinner with the enemy."
"Exactly," I insist, my voice flat. But my heart races, betraying my composed front. "Emily, would you mind watching Olivia for a couple of hours after practice?" I ask, my eyes not quite meeting hers. It's one thing to need help; it's another to admit it.
"Sure, Avery," Emily replies with a smile as warm asthe coffee cup she's holding, steam rising and fogging up her glasses. "Ethan will love having her over."
"First breakfast, now dinner. What's next, a weekend getaway?" Samantha chimes in, elbowing me playfully. But the humor doesn't reach me—not today.
I shake my head, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "It's not like that, Sam. No one's showing up to these meetings. We're going to lose the vote with the board." My voice is tight, each word laced with the fear of what losing really means. "And when we do, Victor will disappear just as fast, and our community..." I trail off, the outcome too bleak to put into words.
"Hey," Samantha says, her tone softening, "we'll figure this out. We always do." She reaches out, squeezing my shoulder in solidarity.
"Victor's not going to win this, Avery," Emily adds, but her reassurance feels like a band-aid on a bullet wound.
I don't want comfort; I want action. I want to save my home, our neighborhood. I nod, trying to swallow down the lump in my throat.
The whistle blows, signaling the end of the practice.
"Come on, let's go see the kids," Samantha suggests, and together, we move toward the lobby where laughter and chatter fill the space like a holiday jingle.
Olivia spots me first, her ice skates slung over her shoulder, cheeks flushed with the chill and exercise. "Mom!" she calls out and rushes over, nearly colliding with me in her eagerness.
"Hey, sweetie," I greet her, crouching to meet her at eye level. "I've got to run an errand, okay? You're going to have dinner with Emily and Ethan tonight."
"Can we have mac 'n' cheese?" she asks, hopeful as only a kid can be.
"Of course, honey," Emily assures her. "Your favorite kind."
"Thanks, Em," I say, standing back up. "I'll pick her up before bedtime."
"Take your time," Emily responds, and there's an unspoken promise in her eyes—that she's got my back, no matter what.
"Mom, you don't have to pretend," Olivia's voice cuts through my act as I look around the lobby and spot Victor. "I know you're having dinner with Coach Victor."
I freeze, my face flushing hot with annoyance—why would Victor tell her? It wasn't his place to do so.
But when I spin around to confront him, he's already striding towards us, his tall figure cutting through the thinning crowd like a ship through calm waters.
"Victor, why would you tell her—" I start, but Olivia tugs at my shirt, her brow furrowed in confusion.
"He didn't tell me. I saw it on your phone." She pulls the device out of my pocket and holds it up like evidence, and my heart thumps a guilty rhythm.
"Oops." My voice is a whisper of chagrin.
"Hey, it's okay," Samantha jumps in, winking conspiratorially while shepherding Sophia and Olivia toward the exit. "You guys have fun, alright?"