Page 22 of You’re The One (Saints Hockey #2)

TWENTY-ONE

I’m starting to understand Dom’s frustration. Having perfectly good food in front of you and not being able to eat it? Cruel .

Also, being a third wheel? Really not a fan. I’ve always had more acquaintances than close friends, so this whole setup is new to me. I feel like one of those chaperones from Bridgerton , sitting there silently while the happy couple flirts across the table. And yeah, I’m not loving that either.

“What do you think, Mia?”

I blink, trying to refocus. “Sorry, what was that?”

Emma offers a small smile. “We were just talking about books. Dominic said he’s never read any of the classics. What about you?”

Dom’s watching me like this might be the topic that finally pulls me into their conversation.

“I’m not much of a reader. If I do, it’s usually audiobooks. I’m more of a podcast person. I have a short attention span.”

“Hey, that still counts,” Emma encourages.

“Maybe you should join our book club.” His voice is light, but there’s something behind it. “I bet Hannah would love that.”

“Maybe.”

He smiles into his glass. Emma sips her wine, then glances between us before asking, almost cautiously, “This has been good for you guys, right? I mean, you seem like… friends… now?”

The pause after “friends” hangs in the air, like she’s not quite sure what to make of us.

Neither am I.

I keep my eyes on the flickering candlelight reflecting off my water glass. “Yeah. We get along.”

Dom doesn’t say anything, but I can feel his gaze on me.

Emma’s eyes ping-pong between us. I think she’s going to let it go, but she surprises me.

“Just friends?”

She steels herself with another sip of wine.

“Forgive my bluntness.” She turns to Dom, resting her hand over his on the table. “I’m developing real feelings, Dominic. And maybe it’s naive, but I thought there wasn’t anything romantic between you two.”

Remember when I said I wasn’t sure about Emma’s feelings? Yeah… I was wrong. They’re pretty clear.

Her gaze flicks back to me. “Saying that out loud feels kind of foolish now. Because there’s something here. Even a blind man could see it.”

She gives a small, nervous laugh and keeps going, like she’s trying to outrun her own vulnerability— Brené Brown would be proud. “And that’s fair. I know you’re dating other women. I know how this works. This is silly. I’m sorry.”

Her voice wavers at the edges, and I’m worried she might cry.

Dom’s mouth hangs slightly open, clearly not sure how to react. Whether it’s the question or the emotion behind it that caught him off guard, I can’t tell.

He’s usually so perfectly put together, so it’s strange to see him stumbling. But it’s not my place to reassure his girlfriend .

Ugh, how did I end up here? Oh, right, thanks a lot, Summer.

I look down at my glass, pretending to study the condensation, giving them the illusion of privacy.

My skin feels too tight as the silence stretches.

I give him a minute.

Two.

Long enough to realize he’s frozen and probably not going to offer any kind of explanation in the next sixty seconds either.

“We’re just friends,” I assure her.

“Mia.” Dom’s voice is low, jaw tight. “We should talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Dominic.” I meet his eye with a challenge of my own. “Tell her. Tell her we’re just friends.”

His jaw ticks.

“I can’t,” he says through clenched teeth.

“I’m sorry,” Emma interrupts. “I didn’t mean to make this weird.”

Dom finally speaks to her. “You’re allowed to have feelings. And I… I never want to make you question where you stand.”

He looks at her as he adds, “Mia and I are just friends— for now. But I’m open to that changing. I’m here to find my person, and I see potential with all the women left.”

That makes her smile, even if it’s a little sad.

I blink.

What the fuck kind of line is that?

I’ve heard at least one version of it on the season I watched in preparation for coming here. But I never expected it to come out of Dom’s mouth.

Is this how he talks to all of the women?

I don’t know why it hits such a nerve.

I see potential with all the women here.

Who does he think he is?—

I’m not upset for me. I’m upset for Emma. Obviously.

“Mia,” Dom starts.

I hold up a hand. “Don’t.”

At this point, I’m not sure what I’m trying to stop.

Emma shifts in her seat, slowly twirling the stem of her wine glass between her fingers. “You don’t have to protect me,” she says gently. “What he said is valid. This is what we signed up for, right?”

I have no idea what I thought I was signing up for, but it definitely wasn’t this. I thought I was coming for a nice escape. A fun vacation. Not so many… feelings.

I let out a breath, not trusting myself to speak.

Dom exhales, too, and the weight of his gaze settles over me again, but I refuse to look at him.

“We should probably wrap this up.” I push my chair back. “It’s getting late.”

Neither of them argues. Emma nods and stands. Dom stays seated, spinning his water glass like he’s still trying to make sense of what just happened.

I don’t know either.

But I remind myself: I’m supposed to be the matchmaker. Not the match.