Page 14 of The Maine Event (Romancing the Workplace #2)

As the kids take their places on stage, Dan steps back into the shadows, his job done.

But even from this distance, I can see he’s invested in them and willing them through sheer force of mind to sing their hearts out.

This means something to him, I realize. More than just a school talent show.

More than being an over-enthusiastic PTA member.

It’s clearly a connection to a past he can’t quite let go of, maybe something of a reminder of the life he once lived.

The music swells, and the kids begin to sing, their voices blending in a harmony that sends shivers down my spine. I glance back at Dan, and for a moment, our eyes meet across the crowded auditorium.

He looks surprised, then curious, his head tilting slightly as if to ask, “What are you doing here?”

I offer a small smile and a little wave in return, hoping it conveys everything I can’t quite put into words. That I see him, really see him, and that I understand, on some level, the weight he carries. That maybe, just maybe, we’re not so different after all.

As the song comes to a close and the parents and teachers in the room begin to clap, I can’t help but join in.

Dan’s voice cuts through the applause, warm and genuine as he congratulates the kids on their performance.

“That was fantastic, guys! You should be so proud of yourselves.” His smile is wide, his eyes shining with a mix of pride and something else, something that tugs at my heart in a way I can’t quite explain.

As the kids disperse, chattering excitedly among themselves, I see a woman approach Dan. She’s tall and slender, with vibrant red hair that cascades down her back in loose waves. There’s a confidence in her stride, a purposeful sway to her hips that draws the eye and commands attention.

“Dan, that was amazing!” she gushes, her hand coming to rest on his arm in a gesture that feels a little too familiar, a little too intimate. “You’ve done such an incredible job with these kids.”

Dan ducks his head, a slight flush creeping up his neck. “Thanks, Veronica. But really, it’s all them. They’ve worked so hard.”

Veronica leans in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that I’m unable to hear.

I feel a sudden tightness in my chest, a pang of something I can’t quite name. It’s not jealousy, exactly. More like a sense of… loss. Like I’m watching something slip away before I even had a chance to reach for it.

Dan hesitates, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. For a brief moment, his eyes find mine before he shakes his head and says no to Veronica’s request.

But Veronica is persistent, her smile widening as she leans in even closer, one hand tactically placed on his forearm as she continues to talk.

I turn away, suddenly feeling like an intruder in a private moment. My heart is beating too fast, my palms slick with sweat. I need to get out of here, need to clear my head.

As I make my way towards the exit, I catch a glimpse of Chloe out of the corner of my eye. She’s sitting alone on the floor, near one of the fire exits, her knees hugged to her chest, her face hidden behind a curtain of hair. Something in her posture, in the slump of her shoulders, makes me pause.

I glance back at Dan, still deep in conversation with Veronica, and then back at Chloe. And suddenly, I know what I have to do.

I square my shoulders and make my way over to where Chloe sits. I lower myself to the floor beside her, my legs crossing underneath me.

“Hey,” I say softly, nudging her shoulder with my own. “That was a really great performance. You can really sing.”

Chloe lifts her head, her eyes wide and startled. “Thanks,” she mumbles, her gaze darting away from mine.

I nod, letting the silence stretch between us for a moment. And then, before I can second-guess myself, I ask, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Chloe shrugs, her fingers plucking at a loose thread on her jeans. “It’s just… I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like I’m not good enough, you know? Like no matter how hard I try, I’ll never be as good as the other kids.”

God, how familiar that feeling is.

My heart clenches at her words, at the raw vulnerability in her voice.

I sit down next to her. “Chloe, listen to me. You are so talented. And not just at singing—at everything you put your mind to. Don’t ever let anyone make you feel like you’re not good enough.

I saw you up there and you were amazing. ”

She looks up at me then, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “Really?”

I nod, my throat tight with emotion. “Really. And you know what? I bet your mom would be so proud of you if she could see you now.”

A single tear slips down Chloe’s cheek, and she brushes it away with the back of her hand. “I miss her,” she says, her voice barely audible over the chatter of the other kids.

“I know,” I say softly, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “And it’s okay to miss her. But she’ll always be with you, Chloe. In here.” I tap my finger against my chest, right over my heart.

Chloe nods, a watery smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Thanks,” she says, leaning into me for a quick hug.

I squeeze her tight, feeling a sudden rush of affection for this brave, resilient girl.

“Do you talk to your dad? About missing your mom, I mean?”

“Sometimes. But whenever I do, he starts acting weird. Sort of tries even harder to be perfect. You know? Like he’s messed up, and I hate seeing him like that. It makes me feel like I’m the one making things harder for him.”

My heart aches for her. For both of them. I think back to how fiercely Dan spoke about parenting the other night, how he seemed almost desperate to get it right.

“Chloe, your dad loves you more than anything. You know that, right?”

She nods, but the doubt is still there, swimming just under the surface. “I know. But… it’s like he never takes a break. It makes me feel like I’m the problem.”

I reach out and touch her shoulder gently. “You’re not the problem. You’re his whole world. He just doesn’t want to let you down.”

Chloe gives me a small, shaky smile. “He never talks about Mom. Like, ever. I feel like I have to be good all the time because… what if he thinks I’m too much? Or that I remind him of her too much?”

“Oh, Chloe.” I pull her into a hug, her head tucked under my chin.

“You’re not too much. You’re exactly enough.

And I know your dad wouldn’t change a single thing about you.

He’s just… figuring it out as he goes. It’s messy, and it’s hard, but you’re both doing an amazing job.

I think he’s just scared sometimes. Scared of losing you too. ”

She sniffles against my shoulder, her arms tightening around me. “I just wish he’d talk about her more. So, I don’t forget stuff. Like… how she used to braid my hair. I don’t even remember what her laugh sounded like.”

I pull her closer. “Maybe you can ask him to share stories with you. He’s really good at stories. I think it would help both of you.”

Chloe pulls back and wipes her nose with the back of her hand, giving me a small, determined nod and the hint of a smile. “Yeah. Maybe I will.”

“Come on,” I say, standing up and holding out my hand. “You ready to join your dad?”

“No,” she says, her smile replaced with a frown. “I’m still mad at him.”

“Why?”

Chloe sighs dramatically. “I asked him for a new dress to wear to the final rehearsal tomorrow night, something that I could wear at the heats too, but he said I should just pick something from my closet. But it’s all baby stuff! He doesn’t get it—I’m not a little kid anymore.”

I nod empathetically. The frustration of feeling misunderstood at her age is still vivid in my memory. “That’s tough. It’s a big moment and you want to look and feel your best.”

“Exactly! I’m practically a teenager. But Dad still treats me like I’m five.” Chloe crosses her arms, pouting.

As I look at Chloe, I’m struck by how she’s caught between two worlds right now—not quite a child, but not yet an adult. It’s a tricky tightrope to walk. An idea starts to form in my mind… Maybe what Chloe needs is a little old-fashioned girl time to help her find her footing in this new phase.

A smile spreads across my face as the plan takes shape.

“You know what, Chloe? I think I have the perfect solution. What you need is a girls’ day out—just you and me.

We’ll go shopping tomorrow, find you a fabulous new outfit that makes you feel like the amazing young woman you’re becoming. What do you say?”

Chloe’s eyes widen, a grin tugging at her lips. “Really? You’d do that for me?”

“Absolutely! Every girl deserves a special shopping trip now and then.” I wink conspiratorially. “Now, let’s go talk to your dad and make it official.”

We march over to where Dan is chatting with some other parents, determined expressions on our faces. I’m pleased to note that the red-haired interloper is nowhere to be seen. He turns as we approach, quirking an eyebrow at our matching stances—hands on hips, chins held high.

“Dan, Chloe and I have an announcement,” I declare, fighting to keep a straight face. “We’re commandeering the day tomorrow for a very important mission: Operation Shopping Spree!”

Dan’s eyes dart between us, taking in Chloe’s hopeful expression and my resolute one. I can practically see the wheels turning in his head, calculating the odds of winning this battle.

“I don’t know, Rachel… Chloe, don’t you have plenty of clothes already?” he tries, but his heart isn’t in it.

Chloe and I exchange a glance, then unleash our secret weapons simultaneously—the dreaded puppy dog eyes. We’ve got this down to a science.

Dan throws up his hands in surrender, chuckling. “Alright, alright, I know when I’m beat. Listen, Rachel, there’s something important I need to tell you.”

“Uh oh,” I jest.

“You might think us actor types are all super liberal. And I guess we are. I am. But when it comes to Chloe, I’m conservative with a capital C, underlined and in bold.

Please, for the love of all that is good in this world, please don’t come home with something scandalous.

She might think she’s all grown up, but she’s twelve. ”

“Dad!—” Chloe is about to complain further, but I interject.

“We won’t.” I salute him. “Scout’s honor.”

“Very well. In that case, I’ll drop her off at Congress Street tomorrow at ten. Give me your number and I’ll send you a pin. And thank you. I’ll use the time to work on the boathouse.”