Page 24

Gabby

I can’t believe how nervous I am.

It’s just a casual visit, nothing formal. But something about meeting Maeve and her daughter Stella feels big. Important. Maybe it’s because I’m genuinely starting to love the idea of being Stella’s temporary nanny. Or maybe… it’s because I want Maeve to like me. Really like me.

Which is silly, right? I’m not planning to stay in Boston long-term.

And from what I’ve seen, all of Roman’s friends have been nothing but kind.

Taylor, especially. When I met her in Vegas dressed as Mrs. Roper , no less, she was warm and completely judgment-free.

That kind of kindness is rare in the fashion world, where everything is curated, critiqued, and polished to perfection.

Part of me should be relieved to be far away from all that noise, from the shallow friendships and the endless pressure to be ‘on’. But the other part of me misses it like a phantom limb. Because designing isn’t just what I do, it’s who Iam.

I sit up straighter as our driver, Fred—new guy, friendly eyes—pulls into Tanner’s driveway. The house is beautiful in a storybook kind of way. Not over-the-top like Cass’s mansion, and nothing like the cozy little apartment I once called home, but there’s a kind of quiet charm to it.

Funny how I’ve started missing small, warm places. Roman’s apartment isn’t exactly aesthetic. It’s more “rugged hockey player” than anything else. But it’s his, and somehow, that makes it feel… comforting.

“You didn’t want to live on Beacon Hill, like the other players?” I ask, glancing over at him. His dad’s the Lieutenant Governor of California, and I know he didn’t grow up in anything close to modest.

Roman’s jaw tightens just slightly before he replies, “No. I kind of like my small place.” His hand moves toward the door handle, then hesitates.

“Besides… I’m single. Most of the guys only moved here after they started families.

” He runs a hand along his jaw, almost absently.

“I’d say ‘maybe one day,’ but… that’s not going to happen. ”

The air shifts.

I try to keep it light. “Right. Romeo doesn’t do relationships.”

He chuckles, but there’s no real humor in it. Not even close. And just like that, something twists in my stomach. There’s more to this. Something heavier than a throwaway line about staying single.

I want to ask, but I don’t. It feels like one of those scabs you don’t pick at, you just gently acknowledge it’s there and respect it. Still, from everything I’ve seen, Roman comes from a family full of love. So what happened to make him so sure love isn’t in the cards for him?

I glance at him and soften my voice. “For what it’s worth… I like your place. It has charm. And who knows, maybe one day youwillmeet someone. Someone who doesn’t care about square footage or zip codes. Someone who just wants you.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes like I’ve just told the most ridiculous joke. A beat later, he’s out of the car, jogging around to open my door. I scoop up the box of cinnamon rolls and the wine we picked up earlier, slipping my hand into his without thinking. It fits too well.

Roman guides me up the wide, welcoming walkway, and when he rings the doorbell, I catch myself tucking my hair behind my ear, nerves flaring.

The door swings open almost immediately, and I’m met with a woman who’s every bit as radiant as I imagined.

She’s a former fashion model. I’ve seen pictures of her, and also heard about her stalker. I shiver just thinking about it.

“You must be Gabby,” she says, all warmth and genuine curiosity.

I smile. “That’s me. And you must be Maeve.”

“I am. Come on in. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

From behind me, Roman groans. “Wow, no love for me, huh? Chopped liver over here.”

Maeve rolls her eyes, pulling Roman into a hug with a dramatic sigh. “Rookies,” she teases. “Always need the most attention.”

I laugh, instantly liking her. She’s got that rare kind of ease, the kind that makes you feel like you’ve known her forever after five minutes. She releases Roman and raises a brow. “Better? Feeling appropriately adored now?”

He grumbles something under his breath, but the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth gives him away. Watching him with her, I can see just how tight knit this group is. There’s history, loyalty, real affection here. It’s… beautiful. And something deep inside me twists at the sight of it.

“Roman, I’m in the kitchen,” Tanner calls out, no doubt to give Maeve and me a minute alone.

“Go,” Maeve adds, nudging Roman inside.

“At least someone here’s happy to see me,” he mutters as he disappears down the hall.

Maeve turns to me, eyes twinkling as she gestures to the goodies in my hands. “You really didn’t have to bring anything. But…” She pauses and points at the box. “Are those what I think they are?”

“If you’re thinking cinnamon rolls, then yes. And thank you for having me.”

“You’re already my favorite.” She beams, accepting the box like it’s a treasure chest. “Let’s go open that wine and sneak a taste before the guys devour them.”

I follow her toward the kitchen. “Is Stella still up?”

“Oh yes,” Maeve sighs. “She’s inherited her dad’s boundless energy. The bedtime battle is real, and she’s not even in her terrible twos.”

We step into the kitchen, and there she is, little Stella in her highchair, curls a mess, cheeks sticky, and babbling away at a piece of cereal like it just told her a funny story. The moment her big eyes land on me, she quiets… then lets out a happy squeal.

“Hello, Stella,” I coo, stepping closer. “You are just the cutest little beauty.”

“More like a cranky beauty,” Tanner laughs, handing Roman a beer with one hand while trying to reclaim a spoon from Stella’s tight little fist with the other. “Nice to see you again, Gabby. And, wait, are those from TheNook?”

“They are,” Maeve says, grinning as she sets the box down. “Didn’t you already inhale one this morning?”

Tanner shrugs, completely unbothered. “I believe in supporting local businesses… repeatedly.” He tugs Maeve into his side and gives her a playful smack on the backside, which earns a squeal from her and a head shake from Roman.

I just smile, even though something stings a little behind it.

Their easy touch, the warmth in their banter, the kind of intimacy that doesn’t try too hard—it just is.

It hits me then. That’s what I never had with Cass.

Not even close. It was all curated moments, filtered emotions, and surface-level connection. This? This is real.

And maybe I’m not ready for real, not yet. But if I ever go down that road again… I’m not settling for less than this.

Not ever again.

“Get a room,” Roman grumbles with mock disgust, just as Stella—clearly his tiny nemesis—scoops up a soggy handful of cereal and launches it right at him.

With a splat, it hits his chest.

Roman yelps and recoils, “Stella, really? This is how you treat your favorite uncle?”

Her answer is a contagious giggle, all dimples and mischief. Roman sighs dramatically as he picks cereal off his shirt and, with great theatrical flair, pops it into his mouth. “Well, waste not, want not.”

Maeve gives Stella a gentle, amused look. “Stella, honey, please do not throw your food at Uncle Roman.”

Uncle Roman.

I have no idea why my chest tightens at that sweet name. Maybe it’s because they really are all a big family, and I miss that.

But the little one just returns to awkwardly spooning cereal into her mouth while chanting, “Mama, mama, mama,” like it’s her favorite word in the world.

And maybe it is. The way Maeve softens, utterly glowing with love, makes something tighten sweetly in my chest.

Tanner, still trying to look like he has things under control, hands Roman a wad of paper towels. “You should really stop being such a target.”

Roman shrugs. “She knows power when she sees it.”

I smile, feeling oddly at home in the chaos. I slide into a chair at the big kitchen table, soaking in the warmth of the space, the laughter, the banter, the scent of cinnamon rolls lingering in the air.

Maeve sets down a glass of wine in front of me, then joins me at the table. “Tanner mentioned you’re in fashion, but that you’re here for a bit and open to something temporary.”

I glance at Tanner, who suddenly looks like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Imighthave said you were extremely talented,” he admits, guilt and pride mixing on his face.

I give him a grateful smile. “It’s true. I’ve worked in the fashion industry for a while, but I’m sort of regrouping right now.”

“I know all about that,” she says, her eyes full of understanding.

I simply nod. “Roman and I go way back and he was kind enough to offer me a place to stay while I figure things out. And yes, I’d really like to work.”

Maeve’s expression warms. “No pressure at all, but we’re in a bit of a pinch with childcare. Our nanny just moved, and we’d love to have someone even part-time, if the fit is right.”

I glance at Stella, who is now rubbing one sleepy eye with her cereal-crusted fingers, looking like a cherub who just started a food fight.

“If you think I’m a good fit, I’d love to take you up on it. I mean, any girl who throws cereal at Roman and isn’t swayed by his dimples…well, that’s my kind of girl.”

“Hey,” Roman protests, feigning offense. “Is this ‘Roast Roman Night’ and no one told me?”

We all burst out laughing, and he lifts another rogue piece of cereal like a trophy before eating it.

Maeve grins. “Oh, you’re going to fit in with us girls perfectly.” Then she sips her wine and asks, “If you could start next Monday?”

“Monday it is.” A little bubble that feels like hope for better things swells inside me.

“You’re coming to the game on Wednesday, right?”

I look to Roman, who meets my eyes with a steady, soft expression. There’s no pressure in his gaze, just a quiet hope.

“I’m not sure yet,” I reply.