Page 5 of Second Chance with the Single Dad Goalie (Second Chance Hockey Players #2)

"Oh, I know one of the ways you can help!

" She shifts in her seat, turning to me eagerly. "Can you recommend a place for us to go for our honeymoon? I follow your travel videos and blogs, and I love all the places you’ve been to. So, as the expert, I was wondering if you could suggest a few destinations for us. Keith is hopeless with these things, and me…, well…”

Keith scoffs. "Hey, I’m not hopeless. I just think anywhere with a decent bed and a beach is good enough."

Laura sighs, exasperated but affectionate. "See what I mean?"

I chuckle. "It’s no problem. I got you." Then, grinning, I add, "Prepare to be influenced." I shoot a wink at Laura, who giggles, shaking her head. Keith groans, rubbing his face.

"God help me," he mutters, but there’s amusement in his voice.

I smirk. "Don’t fight it, Keith. Just let the expert handle it."

Laura beams. "Exactly!"

Before I can add anything else, Dad shifts his attention across the room. "Ed, put your phone away for a while, come on."

Edward barely glances up, his fingers still moving over the screen. "Sorry, Dad, just responding to a client."

Janet lets out a knowing sigh. "Let me guess - another demanding one?"

Ed scoffs. "Demanding is an understatement. This guy has changed his mind three times in the last hour. First, he wanted one thing, then something else, and now he’s circling back to his original request. It’s like dealing with a child who can’t decide what toy to play with."

Rosa shakes her head. "I feel for you. Clients like that are the worst. I deal with one almost every day." Janet scoffs. “I had a guy last week who literally argued with me about his own test results. Some patients act like they know more than the doctors.”

Laura laughs. “I remember Keith telling me about a woman who tried to return a half-eaten cake because it wasn't what she expected. She literally argued and caused a scene for over three hours.”

Edward sighs. "It’s exhausting."

Keith shakes his head. “Very. Honestly, dealing with difficult clients is part of the job. You just learn to manage them.”

Rosa smirks, shifting her gaze toward me. “Of course, one of us wouldn’t know what that feels like. After all, she doesn’t deal with actual clients or do an actual job.”

I pause, my glass halfway to my lips.

Rosa leans back, crossing her arms, staring me dead in the eyes.

The air in the room tightens as I set my glass down deliberately, a sarcastic smile on my face.

I keep my expression smooth, my tone cool.

"What exactly are you trying to say, Rosa?

" I lean back, crossing my legs. "Whatever it is, say it plain and simple. Don’t sugarcoat your words, and don’t beat around the bush. "

Rosa lifts a brow, tilting her head like she’s debating how blunt she wants to be. “Fine. If you want it plain and simple - this ‘influencing’ thing you do? It’s annoying, and not up to the standard of the Langford family.”

I blink slowly, inhaling deeply before exhaling through my nose. I clap my hands together lightly. “Straight for the jugular. I respect that.”

Keith groans. “Rosa, come on…”

“No, no,” I cut in, eyes still locked on hers. “Let’s hear it.” I wave a hand, signaling her to continue. “Go on. Tell me more.”

Rosa lifts a shoulder, feigning innocence. “What? I am just saying what we were all thinking. We’ve all talked about this and agreed that we were going to have a conversation with you about this influencing thing.”

I blink, then let out a small, amused chuckle. "Oh? So, this is a group effort? Please, tell me more about this family meeting I wasn’t invited to." I rest my chin on my hand, feigning deep interest. "Wow. Should I have brought snacks?"

Janet sighs. "Whitney, we’re serious."

"So am I," I say lightly, reaching for my juice. "But please, continue."

Rosa sits up. "Look, we just think it’s time you start taking life more seriously. We all have careers. We work real jobs. Meanwhile, you’re out there making videos and posting pictures - you prance around, traveling from one place to another like life is some kind of endless vacation…"

"And working with global brands," I correct smoothly. "Don’t forget that part."

She rolls her eyes, while Edward sighs. "Come on, Whitney. You’re the only one doing something that…” He then pushes forward. "…that none of us can really be proud to talk about." hesitates but

I blink, then let out a short, humorless laugh. "Oh, this just keeps getting better."

"We just think - no, know - that you’re wasting your potential." Janet says. "It’s just…, social media influencing isn’t a real career. It’s not sustainable. One day, the trends change, the algorithm moves on, and then what?"

Edward nods, arms folded. “She is right, Whitney. We are just worried about you, baby sis.”

I turn to look at Keith who hasn’t said anything since. “Do you also think so? Do you support everything they are saying?”

“I…, I… Look Whit…,” he starts but mum cuts him off with a long-suffering sigh. “Sweetie, enough of the gallivanting. It’s time to stop,” she says with finality in her tone.

Dad’s brows pull together. "Gladys, and the rest of you, stop all of this, this instant. She literally just got back. Cut her some slack. Let her even rest. This conversation can be held sometime later."

Mom shakes her head. "No, Desmond. She has to hear this now. There’s help needed in the company and factory, and she is very much available, so…?" She gestures at me, like it’s an obvious solution.

I exhale slowly, then look at her. "Am I?" I press a hand to my chest, feigning surprise. "Wow, I had no idea I was unemployed and desperate for work. Thank you for letting me know."

Janet groans. "Whitney, come on, that’s not what she means…"

"But it is what she means," I say gently. "And honestly? This is exactly why coming home early was a bad idea."

I glance at my mom, expression softer now. "Mom, I know you worry. I know this isn’t what you expected for me. But I love what I do, and I worked hard to get here. It might not be a job you can proudly explain at dinner parties, but it makes me happy. And it pays my bills - very well, might I add."

I turn to Rosa, my voice light but firm.

"And by the way? I do deal with difficult clients. Just because I don’t have someone storming into an office demanding last-minute changes doesn’t mean I don’t handle stress and negotiations.

" I flash a small smile. "But hey, I get paid to travel the world and work on my own terms. So, really…, who’s winning here? "

The room falls silent.

Having had enough, I sigh and push up from my seat, adjusting my shirt. "Well, this has been so much fun. A lovely welcome home conversation, everyone. Truly heartwarming."

"Where are you going?" Keith and Dad ask at the same time.

I flash them both a small, tired smile. "Outside. I need a little fresh air before all this judgment suffocates me."

And with that, I walk out.

****

The evening air is crisp, cool against my skin.

I shove my hands into my pockets and walk, not really thinking about where I’m going - just needing to be anywhere…

, somewhere. My feet lead me down familiar streets, past houses with glowing windows, past the old bookstore, cafés I used to frequent, and some new stores.

Before I know it, I am standing in front of Sweet Bean Café, the cozy little coffee shop, which is one of the best cafés in town.

The bell above the door chimes as I step inside. The rich scent of roasted beans and warm pastries wraps around me like a hug. I exhale, already feeling better.

The café is just as I remember it - cozy, inviting, the kind of place that makes you want to sit and stay for hours.

A few customers are scattered around, sipping coffee and chatting in low voices.

I head straight for the counter, scanning the menu even though I already know what I want.

Caramel latte, definitely. Maybe something sweet too.

My eyes trail down to the pastry selection when…

"Whitney, sweetheart?"

I pause, turning towards the familiar voice.

Mrs. Hargrave stands near the side door, beaming at me like I’m a long-lost relative who just walked through her front door. Her gray-streaked hair is pulled back into a neat bun, her apron dusted with a bit of flour. She wipes her hands on her apron and walks over, eyes twinkling.

A warm smile spreads across my face. “Mrs. Hargrave! Hi!”

She opens her arms, and I lean in for a quick hug. "Oh, my darling girl, good to see you. When did you get back?" She asks, pulling back to get a good look at me.

“Today.”

Her eyes widened. “Today? And you already came by? Oh, that makes me so happy.”

I chuckle. “I needed coffee. And this place? Best in town.”

Mrs. Hargrave laughs, clearly pleased. “You always were a sweet talker, my dear. I was just telling Ed last week how much I missed seeing your face around here. It’s been far too long. I’ve missed you.”

"I’ve missed you too," I say sincerely. "How’s Mr. Hargrave?"

“Oh, he’s doing all right. He’s at home, resting his knees.

You know how he gets when the weather changes,” she says, shaking her head fondly.

“But enough about that - Whitney, your content on social media? I love it. Those travel tips, the places you recommend - it’s like I get to travel right from my couch! ”

I grin. “Aw, thank you. That means a lot.”

She waves a hand. “Last year, Richard and I even went to one of the places you recommended in Costa Rica. The beaches, the food - it was heaven.”

“Really? That’s amazing! Costa Rica is one of my favorites.”

“Well, thanks to you, it’s one of ours now too.” She pats my arm. “Now, whatever you’re having today - it’s on the house.”

I shake my head. “Oh, no, Mrs. Hargrave, you don’t have to do that.”

She tsks, waving me off. “I insist. I’ve missed you, my sweet girl.”

Touched, I place a hand over my heart. “Thank you. That’s really sweet of you.”

“Think nothing of it.” She leans in, lowering her voice playfully. “Just promise me you will come around more, hmm? We’ve got a lot of catching up to do. I want to hear all about your content, your travels - everything.”

I nod. “I promise.”

“Good.” She pats my hand, then heads back through the side door.

I place my order for the caramel latte and doughnuts. As I wait, the sound of children’s laughter pulls my attention.

And that’s when I see him.

Blake.

With two little ones by his side, their tiny hands gripping his jacket. He’s crouched down slightly, adjusting one of their hats, but when he glances up and spots me, his brows lift.

“Oh,” he says, a small smile forming. “Hello again, Whitney.”

I blink, thrown off for a second, but quickly recover. “Hello, Blake.”

The kids turn their heads toward me, both curious but quiet. Blake follows their gaze, then straightens.

“These are my kids,” he says, resting a hand on each of their small shoulders. “Emilia and Nicolas. Mia and Nico for short.”

I crouch slightly, giving them a little wave. “Well, hello there.”

Mia, the smaller of the two, eyes me shyly before whispering, “You’re pretty.” Then, as if realizing she’s been too bold, she quickly hides behind Blake’s leg.

I grin. “Why, thank you, darling. And you,” I say gently, peeking around Blake’s side to find her, “are one of the prettiest girls I’ve seen in a very, very long time. You have the most beautiful eyes.”

Mia giggles, peeking out again, this time stepping forward just a little.

I turn to Nico, who stands with his arms folded, looking like a tiny, serious businessman. He’s watching me carefully, lips pressed into a firm line.

I fight back a smile. “And you, young sir, are the epitome of cuteness. So handsome.”

His expression doesn’t change - at first. But then his brows lift slightly, and he asks, “More than Daddy?”

Amused, I glance up at Blake, who’s watching the exchange with surprise and amusement in his eyes.

I turn back to Nico and nod solemnly. “Of course.”

Nico seems satisfied with this answer and finally gives a small, smug smile.

Blake chuckles, shaking his head. “Careful, you’re inflating his ego.”

I straighten as the barista calls my name, grabbing my coffee from the counter. Blake watches me for a second before rubbing the back of his neck. “So…, how’s your first day back going?”

I sigh, blowing lightly on my coffee. “It’s…, going.”

“Family stuff?”

I let out a dry laugh and shrug.

“Um…,” he clears his throat. “Listen, now that you’re here, would you want to come watch the game tomorrow? You know, like old times?”

I hesitate. "Um…, I don’t think I’ll be free."

For a second, I see it - a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. It’s subtle, barely there, but I catch it. And for some reason, it makes my chest tighten.

Without thinking, I add, “But I’ll see if I can make it.”

His eyes light up, and I immediately backpedal. “No promises, though.”

He grins. “I’ll take that.”

He’s about to say something else when Mia tugs at his hand. “Dadda?”

He looks down, and she lifts her arms. Without hesitation, he scoops her up, pressing a kiss to her cheek as she giggles and buries her face in his neck.

Something tightens in my chest.

I clear my throat, shifting on my feet. “Well…, I’ll leave you to it.” I force a small smile. “Bye.”

And before he - or I - can say anything else, I turn on my heels, coffee in hand, and walk out the door.

The sun is already sinking, casting the sky in shades of deep orange and soft purple. I don’t feel like going home just yet, so I wander toward the park, letting my thoughts drift. I take in the sight of kids playing, parents chatting on benches, laughter ringing through the air.

I sit on a swing, wrapping my hands around the chain. A little girl, no older than three, runs full speed across the playground, trips, falls - then immediately bounces back up, giggling as her dad chases after her.

I chuckle, shaking my head.

And then, my mind drifts.

To Blake.

Seeing him as a father is…, surprising. Disarming.

Would those have been our kids if …?

I cut the thought off before it can settle, pushing it aside like an old book I don’t want to reopen. Some pages are better left unread.