Page 84 of The Dating Coach
I kissed her temple, grateful again for this woman who understood the weight of family dynamics. "I love you."
"Love you too," she murmured. "Now shh. I'm learning about ventricles."
The apartment buzzer interrupted her studying. Frank's voice crackled through the speaker: "Delivery! Open up! It's freezing!"
"It's October," I called back, but buzzed him in anyway.
Frank burst through our door minutes later, Henry, Karen and Mia trailing behind with bags of food and excited energy.
"Surprise!" Mia announced. "We drove up for the weekend!"
"You were here last weekend," Gemma pointed out, but she was already hugging her sister.
"That was for your birthday," Karen said. "This is just because we missed you."
"And because I have news," Henry added, producing a bottle of champagne. "I got in!"
"McGill?" Gemma squealed.
"Graduate program in education. Starting January." Henry grinned. "Turns out they liked my essay about teaching in underserved communities."
"And journalism program for me!" Karen added excitedly. "I'll finally get to write real stories instead of just campus gossip."
"This calls for Frank's special celebration pasta!" Frank declared, already taking over our kitchen.
"Everything calls for your pasta," I laughed, but I was already getting plates.
The evening dissolved into the controlled chaos of found family. Frank cooked while providing running commentary. Karen tasted his dishes and offered feedback. Mia updated us on her classes and her girlfriend. Henry outlined his plans for revolutionary teaching methods. Gemma and I moved around each other with practiced ease, hosting the people who'd become essential to our existence.
"This is nice," Mia said during dinner. "All of us together again."
"It'll be even better when you’ll be here too," Gemma said. "McGill acceptance is basically guaranteed with your grades."
“Plus, we desperately need someone to challenge Frank at racing video games,” I declared. “He’s become insufferable.”
“I’m undefeated!” Frank crowed, chest puffed out like a peacock.
“That’s because you cheat,” Henry shot back, eyebrow raised.
“Strategic advantages aren’t cheating—they’re… creative competitiveness!”
“See what I’m stuck with all day long?” Karen chimed in, rolling her eyes.
“Pfft, tougher than it looks—why don’t you give it a shot?” Frank taunted, waving the extra controller at Karen.
Karen snatched it like a prize and declared, “I could play this blindfolded!” before promptly pressing every button at once and sending her car careening off a cliff in-game.
The room erupted: Frank howling in indignation, Henry snorting with laughter, and Mia practically spitting out her soda. I leaned back, grinning. Few months ago, I'd been playing hollow hockey and fighting my father's expectations. Now I was eating pasta with the people who mattered, building a life that actually fit.
My phone buzzed with a text from my team captain:Great practice today. You're playing like someone who loves the game.
He was right. Without the pressure of NHL dreams and my father's expectations, hockey had become fun again. I played because I loved it, not because I had to. The joy had returned, and I could see myself playing in local leagues for years to come, maybe even coaching someday.
"Stop staring and do your homework," Gemma said without looking up. "Your building codes won't memorize themselves."
"How did you know I was staring?"
"Because you always stare when you're planning our entire future." She glanced at me. "Want to share?"
