Page 80 of From Maybe to Baby

"Research?" I filled in.

"Market analysis."

"For the article."

"Exactly. It’s important to understand local real estate trends," she said, her fingers hesitating over the keyboard.

My phone buzzes with a new message from Gloria:

That Pacific Heights listing looks perfect. Good schools nearby. Room to grow. Not that I'm pushing...

"Seems like you have a pretty thorough research network," I observed, smirking a little.

Alexa’s face went two shades deeper red. "Gloria might have sent me some neighborhood recommendations. For the article. And some info on school districts. And local youth hockey leagues. All very professional demographic research."

"Of course."

"And maybe some notes on which neighborhoods do the best Halloween trick-or-treating. For seasonal content planning."

"Very professional input?"

"The most professional," she replies, her smile returning as she pulls up another listing. "Though that Victorian did have fantastic natural light for photography. And a breakfast nook perfect for your pre-game routines."

I pull her closer, feeling how perfectly she fits against me. "You know, if you wanted to get more... hands-on with your market analysis, that listing has an open house this weekend."

For a moment, she stiffens in my arms. Then, she takes a deep breath. "Are you suggesting we make my research a bit more interactive?"

"I’m suggesting this could be whatever you want it to be. Even if it’s just 'research.'"

Her smile against my chest is all the answer I need. "You are a handful," she says, her voice muffled.

"The worst," I agree, pressing a kiss to her head. "Lucky for us, you’re pretty good at handling me."

"Always," she replied, her voice firm and confident.

In life, as in hockey, timing isn’t just about perfecting your shot; sometimes, it’s about knowing when to make your move.

11

ALEXA

"Paris."

The word lingers in the air as I stare at my phone, letting the gravity of it sink in. Paris—the dream, the goal, the pinnacle of my career. And life. And… everything, really.

Paris is pure magic, the sweetest of dreams, a place I’ve only ever visited, and departed most reluctantly.

"Paris Travel Editor," Ryan reiterates, his voice tinged with a mix of envy and excitement, waiting for me to erupt into ecstatic jubilation. "Complete creative control."

A year ago I would have fallen to my knees in tears, thanking the universe for blessing me with more fortune than I deserve. With no time to waste, I’d be on my way to the airport, passport in hand, with only a small carry-on because I’d buy all new clothes when I got there.

Today, not so much.

"Uh, when? When do I, um, go?" My voice is distant and shaky, even to my own ears. I hope Ryan doesn’t notice.

It seems he doesn’t. "Get this, Alexa—you start ASAP. January. Picture it—New Year, new beginnings, and the new Alexa Minty taking the European travel scene by storm."

It’s a dream come true. Plain and simple.

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