Page 25 of Playoffs & Promises

We walk together to where bar drinks are being served. I chuckle to myself when I realize that the options are the same as the arena's private box for family members. I look over the options before choosing a Coke for myself.

"It made sense for us to take one car," I say, trying to sound indifferent. "Just being neighborly."

He nods, his gaze steady as he takes a sip of his own drink. "Makes sense."

"It's not a big deal," I add.

He laughs. "Is that what you're telling yourself?"

"It's not." I insist, but it feels more forced than it should.

He just shakes his head, not even trying to hide his knowing smile. "Lia got a text from Maria earlier. Apparently, we don't need cake security tonight..."

He waits to see if I'll take the bait, but I don't want to curse my luck that seems to be changing.

"You should ask her for a slice of cake."

My eyebrows shoot up, and I can't hide my shock. "Is she lifting the ban?"

"Don't go crazy." Nate pats my shoulder, then saunters away to greet some of the other guests arriving. Leaving me standing there, my mind reeling.

I want to do a victory dance or grab Maria and twirl her around like I did in my apartment. Instead, I play it cool, gripping my drink and finding a spot in the room to watch her work. She's finished with the cake already, and Lia is grinning beside her. No doubt showering compliments to her friend for a job well done. The cake shows Maria is a master artist and she should be complimented. Maria is smiling too, and it makes something warm unfurl in my chest.

The party, despite the more formal setting, has a relaxed feel. It's clear Nate and Lia just needed a big enough space for the team and close friends and family to gather. I'm chatting with Dan and Alexis when I see Sofie enter with a few other women. One of which happens to be my own sister, Hannah. I excuse myself and go to see my sister, slinging an arm around her shoulders as I approach.

"Well look who decided to show up," I tease. "I thought you had a big important client you were helping with."

Hannah smirks, nudging me with her elbow until I drop my arm. "Well you should have known I wouldn't miss this. Besides my client decided they wanted to get away and Glacier Bay sounded like a quiet place to do that."

"How long are you staying?" I ask.

"At least a week. Wanted to get in a game and book club. Sofie tells me I can't miss this one."

"Good book?" I ask casually and try my best to act a normal level of indifference as I take a drink.

"Oh, it's a real page-turner. Isn't that right Maria?" Hannah's voice is too innocent, too perfectly timed.

I choke on my drink, coughing as I try to clear my airway. Maria had approached without me noticing from a direction I wasn't looking. Now she stands there calm as ever.

"I liked it," Maria says, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "A little predictable, though."

"It's romance, isn't it supposed to be?" I ask her.

A familiar glare appears in Maria's eyes. The one that says I'd be a dead man if looks were a registered weapon. I hold up my hand to halt whatever verbal assault she's about to release upon me. "Romance is all about the happily ever after right? They meet, they kiss, the end..."

I stop talking, realizing too late that I've said too much. A quick glance at the rest of the women around me shows that I've made a grave error. Hannah shakes her head at me like I'm a poor idiot that's just said the dumbest thing she's ever heard. Sofie is grinning like she's watching a live-action play unfold in front of her and just needs popcorn. The other women look between me and Maria, waiting to see how she'll respond.

Maria's voice is firm, passionate. "Reading romance isn't about predicting the end. It's the journey of how it all happens. It's seeing the worst happen and finding happiness anyway."

Her words hang in the air between us. I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. I've never looked at it like that before, and maybe, just maybe what she's said doesn't apply to just books.

Nine

MARIA

After I've made a spectacle of myself in front of Lou and my friends defending romance novels, I excuse myself to the ladies' room to recompose myself. As I reenter the ballroom, there's the soft hum of chatter and laughter in the air. I barely notice it before I'm stopped by a woman with impeccably styled platinum blond hair. Her lipstick matches her silky plum cocktail dress perfectly, and everything about her screams of refinement.

She looks me up and down, her ice-blue eyes sharp and assessing. "So you're the baker," she says, her tone cool.

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