Page 16 of Scoring with the Coach's Daughter

I roll my ball of dough and place it on the dusted pizza pan. I notice Sam has everything perfectly sliced and diced in tiny cups. She lines them up before us and walks to the stove where she grabs a saucepan and spreads it on each pie.

“Now it’s time for the toppings,” Ellie exclaims. She looks at me. “This is the fun part,” she announces as her small hands grab slices of pepperoni. She methodically places them on her pizza and when she leans over to put some on mine, a few fall on the tiled floor.

“Uh, oh,” she moans and looks sheepishly at Sam. “Sorry Auntie Sam,” she says.

I get the impression that Sam is a drill Sergeant in the kitchen. I look at Sam and am relieved that she’s trying so hard not to criticize and finally, she cracks a smile.

“It’s fine, sweetie,” she says. Ellie nods and reaches into the bowl of shredded mozzarella.

“You know,” I say as I spread sauce over my dough, “your pizza looks amazing.”

“I’m a professional. No one in my class knows how to make pizza,” she says jutting out her chin and puffing her chest. She’s proud of her masterpiece. She confidently spreads the cheese evenly. When she finishes, she stands tall and observes the outcome. “There. Isn’t it pretty Aunt Sam?”

“It’s incredible,” Sam says as she moves behind her and hugs her, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

I laugh in relief that Sam seems to have forgotten the pepperoni incident. I give Ellie the thumbs-up. “You did a great job!”

“Well,” Sam says, returning to her pizzaand sprinkling cheese on top of sausage and veggies. topping the veggies, “I guess these are ready.” She looks at my pizza and for a novice, I hope mine passes her scrutiny. Sam smiles at me before wiping her hands on her apron. “Let’s get these in the oven.”

Sam slides the pizzas into the hot oven and hits a magnetic timer attached to it. Ellie proceeds to chatter away jumping from one topic to the next. I can’t help but notice the way the staff is completely smitten with her—and Sam.

The kitchen settles into a comfortable rhythm behind us and Ellie chatters away. But I catch Maggie sneaking glances at Sam—then me—and then smiling like she’s holding a secret. It makes me wonder if they’ve ever seen her with a man before. If I were a betting man, I would say she’s never shared pizza night with a man before tonight.

“She’s amazing,” I say quietly, nodding toward Ellie as she explains the “secret ingredients” in her pizza to one of the servers.

Sam glances at me, her expression softening. “She’s... everything.”

The way she says it—the quiet reverence in her voice—hits me harder than I expected.

“You’re doing a great job,” I reply.

She looks at me, and for a moment, I think she might actually believe me. But then she shakes her head and shrugs. Her walls are up again.

“It’s just pizza night,” she shrugs, brushing off the compliment.

I’ve already seen her crack a smile, but one isn’t enough. “It’s family pizza night and that makes all the difference in the fast-paced world we live in,” I reply.

She nods in agreement. In my first hour here, I see a glimpse of their life away from the camera, and social media.She’s giving Ellie a wholesome world with structure and values that I admire.

I grab a rag and help to clean the workstation. When the timer buzzes, and the pizzas come out of the oven, Ellie insists on sitting between us at a small table in the break room. She chatters nonstop as we eat, dipping her crust in marinara sauce and wiping her sauce stained on the white cloth napkins.

Sam looks tired. She’s been running at full speed all day and now she’s lost steam. Her energy level is like a star that fades out in a few seconds— withering quickly, and her bright face fading into one of fatigue. The exhaustion shows around her eyes as her eyelids droop.

“Hey,” I say quietly, leaning closer so Ellie can’t hear. “You okay?”

Her eyes search mine before she nods. “I’m fine.”

But she’s not. Not really. I wonder if she’s wishing her sister were here, but I don’t push it. Instead, I focus on Ellie, letting her guide the conversation as she tells me all about her favorite stuffed animal, which is a unicorn.

By the time we finish eating in the dining room, it’s late and it appears the kitchen staff is talking more and working less so I assume the rush of the evening is over. Ellie stifles a yawn, her head leans against Sam’s arm.

“I think someone’s ready for bed,” I mumble.

Ellie pouts. “But I don’t want it to be over,” she says with a voice that defies all logic. The kid has my heart in her hands.

“Don’t worry, kiddo,” I say, ruffling her hair affectionately. “We’ll do it again.”

Her face lights up, and she looks at Sam. “Can Jake come back tomorrow?”

---