“Of course,” she said easily. “The team’s in the top five, that doesn’t happen without you.”
That landed warm in my chest. “Thanks, Mel.”
“Sure thing. So… Sam got Cassy the stethoscope she promised.”
“No kidding. Pitou’s set for annual checkups.”
Mel laughed. “Sam passed it to me, but I told her she should give it to Cassy herself.”
“Cassy would love that. I’ll text you my sister Abby’s number… her husband is visiting this week, that might get in the way.”
Mel was quiet for a beat, wind rustling faintly on her end.
“I’m sure Sam and Abby can figure it out. Sam can even babysit now that she has more time.”
“Yeah, she already passed the ice-cream-truck test. That pretty much qualifies her for babysitting.”
Mel chuckled.
“You’re a solid fake girlfriend. You know that?”
“You mean Iwas… didn’t it end after the party?” she asked, sounding serious.
“That party was nothing more than a warm-up to perfect my acting.”
A pause.
“So you’ve taken a liking to the role.” Her voice was light; she wasn’t opposed.
“Call it a limited-series renewal.”
“I have boxes to check first.” A smile shaped her voice.
“Such as?”
“A dress that screams ‘taken’ and no ‘Bathroom Girl’ tags.”
I chuckled, liking how she didn’t take herself too seriously. “I can work with that, and I’m keeping the kisses.”
She laughed. “Of course you are.”
There was a softness in her voice that wrapped around me effortlessly. I texted Abby’s number while we were still on the line.
“Got it, thanks,” she said when her phone buzzed.
“Anytime.”
We lingered on the phone, neither of us saying goodbye right away. For two people calling this fake, we were getting awfully comfortable in the role. Eventually, we hung up.
Last night I’d been nervous walking into the party, but after seeing Vince’s face and the way her mom’s eyes flicked between us, I started to enjoy myself. As the evening went on, it felt natural, being at Mel’s side, blending into her family and friends. She’d loosened up too, by the way she leaned into me.
We’d played it too well. That goodnight kiss on the sidewalk was the cherry on top. It needed a repeat and maybe a sequel to last through next week.
Monday passed in a haze of replayed moments.
Tuesday morning, the sound of skates slicing across ice was as familiar as breathing. The crisp scrape echoed through the rink, sharp and rhythmic. Brent was out there taking tight turns, driving into stops, absorbing light contact as Rich tracked every movement.
I stood at the edge of the rink, nodding as Brent executed a full pivot and planted hard on that knee. No wince, no stutter, only fluid motion. That was what I wanted.
