He grabbed her backpack, gave Sam a nod. “Nice to meet you, Sam.” Then he looked at me briefly, gave me a perfectly neutral nod, no smile attached, and walked away with his niece, leaving me perplexed.
My gut twisted as I watched him go, a frantic monologue playing on a loop.Did I just alienate my boss forever?Oh Lord, that was the second impulsive, emotional bomb I’d dropped on him since we met.
I untied my braid and redid it, not because it needed fixing, but because I freaking did.
Sam stood next to me, arms crossed, watching the world’s best drama unfold in real time.
“Do you remember that conversation while you packed for your first-ever trip with the team?”
I rolled my eyes but didn’t look her way.
“First, he was the grumpy coach, now he is the mysterious SUV rescuer, and he’s actually damn hot. But then he nods as if he’s leading a military operation.”
“Don’t exaggerate, Sam. He’s hot, maybe, but—” I stopped myself.
Too late. Her smug grin bloomed, a damn victory flag, and here I was, not knowing if the guy in question was even going to show.
Fake dating status: pending. Dignity status: already in flames.
I exhaled. “I asked you to meet me because…” My throat went tight. “Mom invited Vince to your graduation party.”
Sam’s whole face turned from gossip-hungry girl to stunned med student in zero-point-two seconds.
She sat beside me slowly. “Shewhat?”
I nodded, swallowing a fresh wave of indignation warring with the anxiety of Sean’s silence. “Apparently, he’s in California visiting his parents, and she thought it’s a good time to give it another shot.”
Sam’s jaw clenched with a furious tremor. “Do you want me to uninvite him?”
“No, I want this to play out,” I said. “I need to show up happy and completely unbothered, even if I have to fake every second of it.”
“Wow. I knew Mom had her issues with optics, but to go this far?”
Disbelief was written all over Sam’s face as a storm gathered in her eyes. She didn’t just feel things—she took them apart, held them up to the light, and figured out places where things might break.
She studied my face. “And Sean… he seems like a friend?”
I didn’t answer because Sean hadn’t answered me either. And Sam had already guessed he was more than a friend. She’d read the room the way she usually did and was giving me space. I loved her for that.
The ride home was a blur. The evening passed in a haze of me wondering what Sean was thinking.
The next evening found me in front of my bedroom mirror, curling my hair and trying not to overthink the fact that I’d agreed to dine with the Tahoe West head coach—my possible fake date, but still very handsome.
The text had zinged in mid-party-supply run with Sam, our redemption mission after last weekend’s lemon-napkin blowout. Good thing I’d stopped at the store each day after work to buy a few things, until today we finished the shopping. We were at the check-out when a text came through:
Sean:Picking you up at 6PM for dinner. Hope that’s okay.
That was it. No emoji, no explanation. My insides had done a full pirouette.
I adjusted the strap of a black flounce dress. It had multicolored florals, short sleeves, and stopped above the knee. Safe, not whispering I might own a karaoke machine. I added a spritz of vanilla amber (you never know when you might need to smell your best), a soft liner to my eyes, rose lipstick, a tiny purse, and a loose curl in my hair that said, “I tried, but not too hard.”
At 5:55, I slipped out the back door, sneaking off to commit emotional fraud.
He was on time, of course. Coaches always were.
I slid into the passenger seat, pulse doing the cha-cha again. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he said, and started the car.
