Page 37 of Playoffs & Promises

"Something has you in a mood," Isa says as she walks in, her voice bright as usual. "Do I get one too?"

Wordlessly, I hand her a fresh Coke and keep working on the cupcakes.

Isabella's ability to always arrive precisely on time, looking ready for a commercial shoot amazes me. This morning is no exception. Her dark hair is pulled up in a pretty twist. How she gets her waist-length hair to smooth and twist without turning into a frizzy mess is a mystery to me. The sleeves on her butter yellow bakery tee are rolled up, and as she is putting on her apron I spy a knot tied near the bottom hem of the shirt. Her little stylizations and alterations meant the shirt flatters her figure more, and paired with her jeans and ballet flats she looks effortlessly chic.

"I should send you to the arena," I tell her. "You're way more camera-ready."

She shakes her head, laughing as she finishes tying her apron. "Oh no. There's no way you're passing that off to me. Not when you and that hockey hunk need to get your chemistry all figured out."

I can't help but roll my eyes. "There's no chemistry to figure out. Unless you want to see a disaster. We're like oil and water, don't mix."

"Don't you mix those all the time?" Isabella teases.

"If matchmaking was as easy as baking--"

"Then you wouldn't be single." She finishes for me. "But I read your horoscope today, and it said--"

"Isabella," I cut her off, exasperated but smiling, "I love you like the sister I've never been blessed with, but stop with all of the horoscope nonsense."

"But it said--"

"If the universe wants to send me a message, it's going to have to set something on fire, not ask me to pay for some psychic's vacation home," I say. "Now I have to get these cupcakes to the arena so that the new PR manager can okay everything for the morning news spotlight. This could be the big break the bakery needs."

Isa's smile softens. "Everyone is going to love you and your bakery."

"They better." I check the time and the pressure in my chest that had eased, returns in full force. "When I'm gone, remember to keep the back door--"

"I have everything under control here. So pack up your cupcakes and let's get your cupcakes on the road."

After that pep talk, my cousin gives my hair and face a quick once over, and I triple-check the cupcakes as I finish packing them into the carriers for transporting to the Glacier Bay Hockey Arena.

As Isabella drives down the road closer to it, the silhouette of the arena is so much larger than I remember. It looks so much larger without the crowds from game day, and casting a long shadow against the early morning sun. The arena is easily one of the biggest buildings in Glacier Bay. I've been to the arena for exactly two games. One last season when Lia left with an engagement ring on her finger. Hannah had gotten me the ticket before she moved to Tennessee for bigger and better things in her career and to stay closer to her boyfriend. No doubt a ring is in her future too. The second time, was the game Lou scored the goal against his team.

I frown as Isabella pulls into the parking garage Carrie emailed me directions for. We pull up near the elevator, and I unbuckle my seatbelt. Before I can open my door, she reaches over and gives me a hug.

"Remember Maria, let the universe guide you."

Hugging her back, "It's not the universe that got me here. Thank you for the ride, please go back to the bakery so it can open on time." I accept her words of support and nothing more.

She shakes her head at me. After I get the cupcake carriers out of her car, she waves, and drives away in her car.

"Maria?"

I turn to find Lou standing inside an open employee elevator, already dressed for practice, because I don't think they have a game today, but I haven't kept track lately. He's got all his hockey gear on, including his skates with guards on.

"Please tell me you're not who Carrie sent to meet me?" I say, barely keeping the irritation out of my voice.

A little line forms in the middle of his brow and I fight the ridiculous urge to smooth it away. Not that I'd do something so outrageous in a million years, but the desire still hits me. Instead, I cling to my irritation.

"You're in luck," he says. "I just needed to grab something out of my Jeep."

"Oh." I glance around the parking garage searching for someone else, anyone else. "Well, I don't want to keep you."

"I couldn't possibly leave you in a dark parking garage all alone," he insists.

The parking garage is brightly lit with cameras are all over the place. "I'm sure--."

Interrupting whatever excuse I'm about the spew, he slaps a hand over the door of the elevator to stop the doors from closing. "Our friends would never let me hear the end of it. I insist."

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