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Maya

“ S o, where are we going?” I ask Christian from the passenger seat of his SUV as he drives us around town. “Are you sure I look okay wearing this?”

“Maya,” he says quietly, his gaze moving from the road to sweep over my pale blue dress for a quick second. “You look beautiful.”

I smile at him before he looks away, and some of the nervousness leaves me. “Thank you. But that doesn’t answer my question.”

“I thought we could go to a steakhouse in a hotel if that’s okay? The food is great, and it’s casual.”

“That sounds perfect,” I agree.

“I wish I had known you were coming, that we were going on our first date in almost six years, so I could’ve actually planned for perfect.”

“No, this is great. I like seeing you just…wing it.”

“So, we’re winging it, huh?”

“Yes. No expectations, no commitment.”

“Well, I want commitment, and you exceed all of my expectations.”

“Oh please,” I laugh with a roll of my eyes.

The hotel Christian picked is on the edge of town, away from the busy streets and noise of the city. It’s quiet and intimate—exactly the kind of place where we can escape for a few hours and just be us. Or at least that’s what I hope.

But the moment we step inside and wait at the hostess stand, I see the familiar looks. A few tables of guests are already watching us, whispers spreading through the room as people recognize him. Christian’s fame comes with a price, and even on what’s supposed to be our first date, we’re not really alone.

It doesn’t take long before a group of three women approaches. Hockey fans, obviously—one of them is even wearing a Bobcats tee.

“Christian Riley!” one of them squeals, her eyes wide with excitement. “Oh my God, I can’t believe it’s really you!”

He gives the women a polite smile, clearly not wanting to cause a scene. “Hi, yeah. Just here for a quiet dinner date with my girl, but it’s nice to meet you.”

I’m relieved he was so quick to publicly claim me as his girl.

The women, though, ignore the hint that we want to be left alone. “Can we take a picture with you?” another one asks, stepping closer, her gaze a little too sultry for my liking. “Pretty please?”

I take a step back, standing off to the side, and trying not to let the attention bother me, but it’s hard. This is supposed to be our night, our first date in nearly six years. One Christian worked an entire summer to convince me to give him, and they’re already intruding on it.

Christian glances at me, his expression apologetic. “Just one group photo,” he says softly, stepping away for a moment.

I watch as they swarm around him, laughing and giggling like teenagers. One of them even puts her arm around his waist, and a spark of jealousy flares inside me. I’m still working on trusting him, and these women—they’re practically throwing themselves at him. And superstar Christian Riley is too polite to push them away.

When the picture is finally done, Christian gently but firmly reminds them that he’s here with me. “I’m on a date, so if you’ll excuse us, I want to get back to it,” he says, his voice kind but firm.

The disappointment on their faces is obvious, but they eventually back off, leaving us alone once again.

Christian walks back to me, a sheepish grin on his face, and takes my hand in his. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” I say, though I know he can tell I’m more than a little annoyed. “It comes with the territory.”

“Ignore them,” he says, his tone softening as he reaches for my hand. “You and me are all that matter tonight.”

We finally get seated at a table. The soft glow of candlelight casts a warm glow over the menus as we quietly look over them. I can feel Christian’s occasional gaze on me.

Finally, I take a deep breath, breaking the silence. “Christian, I need to ask you something.”

He looks at me, his expression suddenly serious. “Anything.”

I hesitate, my fingers fidgeting with the edge of my napkin. “Why…why did you sleep with so many women?”

He looks away before answering. “Because…after things ended with us, I missed you and wanted to try to get over you. Which didn’t work. I realized right away that no one could make me feel what I do with you. It all felt so…empty. I think mostly, I did it because I could, but also I was hoping to find that feeling again. I was lonely, bored, and stressed out. It was a decent distraction from all those things, from being a rookie, needing to make a name for myself in the pros, to prove to my father I had what it takes. All stupid reasons, really.”

When he’s finished speaking, and I don’t say a word, Christian leans across the table, his lips brushing softly against mine in a kiss so tender, so careful, it feels like a promise to stop my worry. I don’t pull away. Instead, I lean into it, letting the warmth of his touch wash over me, melting some of the tension that’s been coiled tightly in my chest. It’s not like before when everything between us was rushed and filled with the heat of new passion. This is slower and more deliberate. It feels like he’s trying to tell me something, something deeper than words. The night he left, he almost said he loved me. Granted, my mouth was on him at the time, but I think he meant it.

When he pulls back, his hand is still wrapped around mine, his thumb gently stroking my skin. “Maya,” he whispers, his forehead pressed against mine, “Thank you for tonight, for coming this weekend.”

I nod slowly, my breath catching in my throat. “Sure.”

“I know you’ll probably never look at me the same way you did before, before I screwed up,” Christian says after a moment, his voice soft but sure. “But I hope you do someday.”

I look down at our hands, feeling the warmth of his palm against mine. “Me too.”

“I’m going to be a part of Finley’s life no matter what happens between us,” Christian says, his voice steady. “I want to be there for him. I missed so much already, and I don’t want to miss another second of his life. I hate living so far away.”

I look up at him and all I see is sincerity, along with a deep longing that mirrors my own. He’s not the same man he was when he up and left me, and maybe—just maybe—I’m not the same timid woman I was, either. We’ve both changed, and that change has brought us back to this moment, this possibility of something real.

His expression softens, and he leans in closer. “Whatever you or Finley need, I’m here for it. You’re only a few hours away.”

I swallow hard, feeling the weight of his words settle over me. “Right now, I just need you to be patient with me. I can’t move to Greensboro. I know that’s what you want, but it has to be my decision this time. And I also need to know that you’re really in this for the long haul, even if we’re not always here with you.”

“I am,” he says firmly, his grip on my hand tightening slightly. “I’m in this, Maya. For you. For Finley. For us.”

There’s something about the way he says it, so sure, so confident, that makes me want to believe him. And maybe I do. Maybe, for the first time in a long time, I’m starting to believe that we could actually make this work.

“I hope we can do this,” I whisper, my voice trembling slightly. “I really do.”

Christian smiles a slow, genuine smile that lights up his whole face. “Me too. All we can do is try. Both of us.”

For the rest of the evening, the tension between us melts away, replaced by something lighter and hopeful. We talk quietly, our conversation flowing naturally, the way it used to when we first met and were inseparable. Christian tells me about his week of training, how he’s ready to get back out on the ice, and about some of the guys on the team—Luke, his wild best friend and the team’s tough guy, Tyler, his shadow, a shy rookie forward, Connor, the goofy, funny guy who never sits still, and Jason, the veteran goalie who’s been like a big brother to him, a part of the team for the past six years.

I find myself laughing at his stories, feeling more relaxed than I have in weeks. It’s easy to get caught up in the way he talks and the way his eyes light up when he’s passionate about something. This is the Christian I fell in love with—the one who’s funny and thoughtful, who knows how to make me feel like I’m the only person in the world when he’s with me. The man he was before he became a famous hockey star.

When dessert arrives, a rich chocolate cake that we share, I finally feel like I can breathe again. The weight of our past and the unfortunate physical distance between us is still there, but it doesn’t feel as heavy anymore. It feels like something we can work through together.

As we finish our meal, Christian leans back in his chair, his eyes soft as they meet mine. “I’ve been thinking,” he says, his voice thoughtful. “We should definitely do this more often.”

“Go on a date?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Spend time together, just the two of us,” he clarifies. “Like we used to. Don’t get me wrong. I adore my time with Finley, but I love being alone with you, too.”

I smile, the thought of spending more time with him warming something inside me. “I’d like that. I love him so much, but it’s nice to have a short break from being a worried mom for a few hours.”

“I’m glad you get it.”

It’s a simple moment, but it feels significant—like we’re finally moving toward something real, something lasting. And for the first time in a long time, I feel a flicker of hope.

When we leave the restaurant, Christian wraps his arm around my waist as we walk to the car. The night air is warm, but I still lean into him, savoring the warmth of his body next to mine. It feels right—like we belong here, together.

As we drive back to Preston’s apartment, the conversation is light, and the heavy emotions of earlier are now behind us. It feels good to be with him like this, without the weight of the past hanging over our heads.

When we pull up in the parking lot, I hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to say. Christian must sense my hesitation because he turns to me, his expression soft.

“I had a great time tonight,” he says quietly.

“Me too,” I say, smiling at him.

There’s a beat of silence, and then he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek. It’s a gentle, lingering kiss, one that sends a warm shiver down my spine.

“That was my goodnight for you. Can I come in? Just to see Finley, I mean?” he asks, his voice hopeful.

“Yes, of course,” I whisper, my heart fluttering in my chest. “I wish you could stay the night…”

“No, I get it. This is Preston’s place. Maybe you and Finley can stay with me one night this weekend?”

“That would be great,” I agree.

Later that night, after Christian and I put Finley to bed in Preston’s guest room, he leaves. Preston and Elle have gone to bed too, so I sit on the couch in the dark, my phone in my hand. I scroll through Christian's recent messages, short and sweet updates about his workouts, practices, and asking how Finley is doing, to tell him he said hello. It’s nothing fancy, nothing dramatic, but the messages are there. They’re consistent.

I hesitate, my finger hovering over the keyboard. Should I text him to say goodnight again? Should I bring up the idea of visiting him on the road? Or would that make me seem… desperate? Or worse, remind him that I still don’t trust him?

But I think I want to surprise him.

Before I can second-guess myself, I type out a quick message.

Will we see you tomorrow? I ask, so I can pretend I’m inquiring for Finley’s sake. After all, we didn’t discuss plans for the weekend tonight.

I stare at the screen, waiting. I hate that my heart speeds up just from sending a simple text. After what feels like an eternity, but is only moments, my phone buzzes.

Absolutely.

I smile and the dots appear as he types and then sends, How about we go to one of the parks? I told Finley about them over the summer and he asked me to take him to all of them.

The park sounds fun.

I hit send before I can overthink it. There’s a pause and then another message.

I’ve missed him. And you. I want us to spend the entire weekend together.

I bite my lip, my fingers tapping against the phone as I contemplate my next move.

Are you sure? What if someone sees us out in public and posts a photo? People will ask questions…

Let them. I don’t care if the whole world knows I have a son, or that you and I are together.

His confident message is followed by, Shit. I should probably tell my dad first.

You haven’t told your father about Finley? I ask in surprise and disappointment.

He’s going to be so pissed at me. The lecture about how immature and selfish I am will last years. But he’ll be excited to be a grandpa.

Oh. So, his hesitation sounds like it’s more about how his father will treat him, not because he’s ashamed.

I’ll tell him soon. He’ll probably want to meet Finley.

Of course, I agree. We could plan a visit to see him.

He’ll love you and Finley , Christian says. Then, What about your parents? Finley doesn’t ever mention his grandparents.

Because he’s never met them. They don’t want to know him.

WHAT?

I don’t really want to talk about it.

Well, I do. Who the hell wouldn’t want to know my incredibly awesome son?

His defensiveness makes me smile despite the overwhelming sadness.

Assholes, I respond.

Assholes , Christian agrees, making me feel like we’re a team, that we’re on the same side no matter what comes.