Page 59 of If You Give a CEO a Chance

Mom: That was very kind of you. You’re forgiven.

Cash hearts message

Presley: And just like that Cash is the favorite again.

Dylan: How come no one ever thinks I’m the favorite?

Cash: Two words. Middle child. It’s a tough gig.

Dylan: Like you would know. Mom treats you and Presley like the babies of the family.

Mom: For the last time. I. Don’t. Have. Favorites.

Presley: I think we broke Mom.

Harrison: Are you all texting in the same room?

Dylan: Yes. I better go. Marlow’s giving me the side eye.

Mom: Don’t stay up too late. Love you all very much.

Harrison: Love you too, Mom.

I tuck my phone into my pocket as the town car pulls up to the arena, and I breathe a sigh of relief. This place has become like a second home, a refuge from the constant demands of running Stafford Holdings.

When I returned to Aspen Grove after my dad’s heart attack, I immediately stepped in as his intern. With Mom keeping him sidelined, I stayed by his side, learning everything about the business. It wasn’t long before I realized just how much he had on his plate, so I made the difficult choice to step away from playing professional hockey and go all in at Stafford Holdings. It was a responsibility I’d been putting off, but it was time to accept the role I’d always known was mine, whether I was ready or not.

Before I became CEO three years ago, I held various other roles across the company, gaining firsthand experience in every department. My dad made sure I earned the title of CEO and was capable of handling its demands when the time came. Early on, I took on as many responsibilities as I could to ease his burden and reduce his stress. After everything he’s done for my siblings and me, it was the least I could do.

There was no chance I was going to let one of my siblings take over when they all had their own dreams. Dylan would have stepped in if he’d been asked, but he’d never shied away from wanting a family. When Lola came along, she became his priority.

My toxic trait is putting everyone else’s happiness first, even if it means sacrificing my own. Not that I would change it. My family is my world, and I’d do anything for them. Hockey hasalways been my personal escape, and I’m fortunate to still be able to have it in my life in some form.

When I get to the players’ lounge, Ryan greets me with a clap on the back. “Hey, man, I didn’t think you could make it tonight.”

Ryan Hicks is the head coach for the Mavericks, and someone I consider a good friend of mine. We both played for the Huskies, and he went on to have an incredible career as an elite goalie, posting record-breaking save percentages, and led his team to three championship trophies. After retiring from pro hockey, he went on to coach in the American Hockey League before being brought on to coach for the Mavericks.

“I had a change of plans and came home early,” I say.

He crosses his arms across his chest. “Your mom let you do that? I thought she had you on a tight leash.” Ryan has met her several times, so he understands how intense she can be.

“She’s convinced that my private chef is about to become my new wife, so she was quick to rush me home,” I mumble.

He chuckles. “Speaking of private chefs, I had the guys’ pre-game meal catered tonight. With everyone taking some time off for the holidays, I want to make sure they returned ready to hit the ground running and perform their best.”

I nod. “Good idea. Did you go with Central Park Catering again?” The last time they mixed up all the dietary requests, and a few of the guys weren’t thrilled they had to go without their usual meals.

Ryan shakes his head. “Nah, I went to a holiday party last week at a friend’s house, and they hired a private chef. She madethebest mini crab cakes, and I was shocked to learn later on they were gluten-free. So, I figured if we hired her, you could eat something.”

The team is aware that I have celiac disease and they go out of their way when they know I’ll be at an event to make sure the food is safe for me to eat.

There’s a low buzzing in my ears when I register what Ryan said.

Holiday party. Gluten-free. Her.

There’s got to be other private chefs in the city who are women, catered holiday parties last week, and specialize in allergy-friendly food, right? There’s no way he’s talking about Fallon.

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