Page 18 of Across the Boards

“My controversial opinions on hockey catering?”

“Your honesty,” he corrects. “Most people at those functions were working so hard to fit in. You were just... authentically yourself.”

I search his face for any sign of insincerity but find only genuine appreciation. It strikes me that this might be the first real compliment I’ve received in years that wasn’t about my appearance or what I could do for someone else.

The rest of dinner passes in a blur of good food and surprisingly easy conversation. Brody tells stories of hockey pranks and road trip disasters that actually make me laugh. Tommy shares insider gossip about players I vaguely remember from my hockey wife days. Sarah watches with barely disguised satisfaction as I gradually relax, the tension I’ve been carrying all evening slowly melting away.

“Oh no,” Sarah suddenly exclaims, looking at her phone with alarm. “Tommy, the freezer alarm is going off at home.”

Tommy frowns. “We have a freezer alarm?”

Sarah kicks him under the table, not nearly as subtly as she thinks. “Yes, dear. The one we installed after the Great Power Outage Ice Cream Disaster. Remember?”

“Right,” Tommy says slowly, comprehension dawning. “That freezer alarm. The one that’s... alerting us. About our freezer.”

I narrow my eyes at Sarah. “Since when do you have a smart freezer that sends alerts to your phone?”

“Since always,” she says breezily, already gathering her purse. “Well, not always. Recently. Very recently. The point is, we need to go check on it before all our food spoils.”

“All your food,” I repeat skeptically. “In the freezer that you, a woman who orders takeout five nights a week, absolutely need to rush home to save.”

“I meal prep!” she protests. “Sometimes. Theoretically.”

“Sarah.” I give her my best ‘I know exactly what you’re doing’ look.

“What?” She widens her eyes in exaggerated innocence. “It’s a legitimate freezer emergency!”

“Of course it is.”

“It is!” She stands, pulling Tommy up with her. “We really have to go. But you two should stay! Finish your dinner. Have dessert. It’s still Elliot’s birthday celebration, after all.”

“You’re not fooling anyone,” I accuse her.

“The point is, tiramisu. They have excellent tiramisu here.”

Brody, who has been watching this exchange with barely suppressed amusement, finally chimes in. “I do like tiramisu.”

“See?” Sarah beams at him. “Brody likes tiramisu. It’s settled.”

“Nothing is settled,” I protest, but it’s halfhearted at best.

The truth is, despite my annoyance at Sarah’s transparent matchmaking, I’m not actually upset at the prospect of spending more time with Brody. Which is exactly what she’s counting on, the manipulative genius.

“We’ll get the check on our way out,” Tommy says, already steering his wife toward the exit. “Consider it our birthday gift.”

“That’s very generous,” Brody calls after them.

“Freezer emergency,” I mutter under my breath. “Could she be any more obvious?”

“She could have faked a medical condition,” Brody suggests helpfully. “Or claimed there was a water leak. The freezer at least has plausible deniability.”

“There’s nothing plausible about Sarah Harrington having a fully stocked freezer,” I counter. “The woman considers refrigerated cookie dough a home-cooked meal.”

He laughs, the sound warm and rich. “Fair point. But are you really complaining about dessert opportunities?”

“I’m complaining about being manipulated,” I clarify. “The dessert is collateral benefit.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘no, I’m not leaving before tiramisu,’” he says with a knowing smile.

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