I exhaled through my nose, slow and sharp.
My phone blinked.
Mel:Walking in now.
Me:Can you come to the third-floor conference room? I’m here.
Mel:What’s going on?
Me:We’ll explain when you get here.
I glanced at Nathan. “Let’s wait. Mel’s here.”
A few minutes later, a soft knock tapped the door.
“Come in,” I called.
Mel opened the door slowly, peeking in, eyes landing on me, then Nathan before stepping inside. Her shoulders were tight, her posture guarded.
She shut the door gently behind her. “Okay…?”
I stood. “Come in.”
She crossed the room and took a seat beside me.
Nathan gave her a polite nod. “Hi, Melanie. I’m Nathan. I handle PR for Tahoe West. I’ll explain.”
She still, eyes flicked to mine, then back to him.
Nathan scrolled on the iPad and placed it in front of Mel. “This photo is circulating.” It was the same one Asher showed me earlier.
“Your ex-wife?” Mel’s voice came out like a shocked breath.
I nodded.
Nathan glanced at me, then back to her. “It’s from a sports gossip page that feeds on sensationalism. They framed this as an ‘old versus new’ narrative—an NHL coach, top-five team, an ex who leveled up, and his new flame. That gets traction. Itdoesn’t matter that the separation was three years ago, or that the divorce was finalized last year, or that you, Melanie, have nothing to do with his ex. They only want the contrast.”
I felt Mel’s shoulders stiffen even more.
Nathan continued, calm and clinical. “They pulled public details and packaged them into a headline-worthy ‘then and now.’ The party photo was easy to spot on social media.”
Mel’s mouth flattened. “So my prize for dating you is being put side by side with your ex?”
I reached over and squeezed her hand. “And somehow, you still came out on top.”
Her eyes didn’t soften. “From one freaking picture, they build this whole story?” Disbelief was written all over her face. “So, creators are paying rent off my face, and I have to smile and pretend this isn’t grossly invasive.” Her tone was dry, stripped of emotion.
“Unfortunately normal for people adjacent to pro sports,” Nathan said. “The moment you showed up on a coach’s arm, you entered the WAG scouters’ orbit. You’re not a public figure, but you’re in the crosshairs.”
He tapped his tablet. “We’re watching this. If things escalate, we’ll see what can be done. But the law is very weak on this kind of exposure.”
Mel glanced at me. “Maybe I should’ve picked a boyfriend with less paparazzi potential.” Her voice was flat, the tone biting.
I felt the sting. “That’s how I feel too. Some days I wish I had someone else’s life.”
A beat of silence passed before Nathan spoke again.
“That’s all from me for now, but I’m just a call away,” he said, standing. He offered Mel a polite smile. “Take care, Melanie.”
