And yet, it’s the first time since this all started that I’ve gone out without Grayce.The guilt hovers heavy, whispering that I should be home readingBrown Bearfor the thousandth time, not trailing a stranger through tunnels like I belong.
I’m still baffled by what possessed me to say yes because it had nothing to do with my wants and everything to do with Atlas.He asked me to be here… to support him.He also asked me to hang with him and the team after the game.I suppose a bit of curiosity drives me, but I could see it was important to him and that’s why I said yes.As for agreeing to hang out after the game, I figured if I’m going to have guilt for leaving Grayce, I might as well lean into it.
“This way,” the staffer says, holding open a heavy door.
The suite is a different world.
Plush carpet muffles footsteps.The lighting is low but golden, glinting off sleek marble counters.Flat-screen TVs line the walls, already streaming pregame commentary.A buffet stretches the length of one side, polished silver lids gleaming over steaming trays.On the other side, a bar gleams with rows of crystal glasses and every liquor bottle you could imagine.Staff in black uniforms glide silently, topping off drinks, whisking away plates, offering trays with bite-size things too pretty to eat.
It’s crowded with expensively dressed men and women leaning against high-tops and laughing over cocktails, pausing from time to time to check their phones.Jewelry flashes, perfume curls through the air, and I catch just enough snippets of conversation to know I’m way out of my element.
I freeze just inside the door, every nerve screaming that I don’t belong.Jeans and a sweater—nice enough, but not this.I might as well have a neon sign over my head that saysImpostor.
And then Brienne is in front of me.I recognize her because I googled her out of curiosity the evening I was presented with her invitation.Atlas has talked about her, but I had no idea how incredibly powerful she is.She’s not just a rich woman but also a business leader, entrepreneur and pioneer.I learned that she not only heads up one of the largest banks in the United States and owns a professional hockey team, but she just bought a formula race team based out of England.
She is disarming.Chic, yes—blond hair gleaming in the perfect chignon, eyes sharp as cut glass—but her smile is so warm it feels like I’ve known her forever without us ever having spoken a word.
“Maddie.”She says my name like she’s been waiting for me.“I’m so glad you came.”
And then she hugs me.All-encompassing, none of that air-kiss crap, and with an extra squeeze on the end.
The tight coil in my chest loosens by a degree.“Thanks for inviting me.”
“You’re always welcome here.”She glances around the suite, dismisses the cluster of VIPs without apology, and steers me past them.
Relief pulses through me that she doesn’t bother with introductions I don’t want.Instead, she guides me straight to the tall man at the center of a small group.
“Drake,” she calls, and her husband turns.
I recognize him from my Google searching—Drake McGinn, the Titans’ primary goalie but out on injury.Tonight, he’s in a sharp suit instead of pads, but there’s no mistaking the athlete’s bearing.
If Brienne epitomizes cultured chic, her husband is all rough edges with his long hair, beard and tattoos.I’ve never seen two people so diametrically opposed in the looks department, but the way they stare at each other with utter devotion, I can’t imagine any two people more perfectly matched.
Brienne brings me right to him.“This is Maddie.”
His handshake is warm and firm, his smile easy.“Good to meet you, but I feel like I know you already from Atlas.How are you liking Pittsburgh so far?”
I find myself answering honestly.“It’s… different from what I’m used to, but I’m adjusting.The people have been amazing.”I look around the suite.“This invitation is amazing.”
“That’s Pittsburgh for you.”He nods.“And Atlas—I’ve never seen him so over the moon about anything as he is about that little girl.Everyone in the locker room can tell.”
Heat blooms in my chest.“Graycie’s easy to love.”
“Still,” he says with the conviction of a man who’s lived in both locker rooms and nurseries, “it takes a real man to step up.You’ve got a good one in your corner.”
Before my blush can swallow me whole, Brienne cuts in with a knowing smile.“Drake, why don’t you go say hello to the Greens?I’ll steal Maddie for a bit.”
Drake’s eyes glitter with mischief, and he leans in conspiratorially.“That’s Brienne’s code for she wants to talk about girlie stuff with you, so… I’m out of here.I’ll catch up with you two later.”
Drake moves off and now I’m wondering what kind of girlie stuff Brienne would want to discuss.Makeup?Best medicine for period cramps?
She guides me to a high-top table tucked along the side wall, away from the heaviest foot traffic.The arena stretches in front of us, offering a perfect view of the ice below.
Warm-ups are underway.Players streak across the ice with dizzying speed, pucks pinging off boards, music pounding through the rafters.The crowd is already a roar, thousands of purple towels spinning in the air.
Brienne waits until I’ve settled into the tall chair before speaking.Her voice is softer now, intimate.“I’m sorry about your loss.I know Gray meant a lot to you.”
Definitely not discussing makeup and period cramps.
