“Thank you. You’re the best.”
“I know.” She winks, taking a sip of her cocktail.
Mom bustles into the kitchen, arms full of empty serving platters. “There you are! Sydney, bring the garlic bread out, would you? We’re ready to eat!”
Dinner is a lively affair, with three tables pushed together in the dining room to accommodate everyone. I find myself seated between Brooks and Zoe, with Jonah directly across from us, his eyes narrowed every time Brooks so much as breathes in my direction.
Kermit dominates the conversation with stories of Maisie’s legendary poker skills. “Cleaned me out three weeks in a row! And always with that same innocent smile, like she’s not holding a full house.”
Brooks winks at his grandmother. “Taught me everything I know about bluffing.”
“A skill that’s served you well, I imagine.” Jonah’s tone edges into barbed territory. “On and off the ice.”
Brooks’ smile doesn’t falter, but I feel him tense beside me. I place my hand over his on the table, and his fingers curl around mine.
“Some of us have natural talent,” Maisie says. “Brooks was always a quick study. Sydney too—that’s why they make such a wonderful pair.”
The heat creeping up my neck, I force a smile. “I don’t know about that, Maisie. More like opposites attract. Right, babe?”
The endearment feels less awkward on my tongue, but Brooks plays along, giving me that lazy half-smile that does ridiculous things to my insides. “Yup. Beauty and The Beast.”
The table erupts in laughter, and I give his hand a squeeze.
“Remember Sydney’s ex?” Dad’s voice suddenly cuts through my thoughts, and I freeze. “That forward for the Blizzards?”
Oh no. Please, no.
“Handsome fella.” Dad’s oblivious to my mental screaming. “What was his name? Jeremy? Jobe?”
“Jake,” Mom supplies, and I contemplate diving under the table.
“Jake!” Dad snaps his fingers. “That’s it. Nice enough guy, but nothing like Brooks here.” He clasps Brooks on his good shoulder. “This one’s a keeper, Syd. Knows what he wants and goes after it.”
“Boy, does he ever,” Jonah barbs, then he smiles innocently. “That’s why he’s The King.”
Cheers echo through the room, but I feel Brooks go rigid beside me. My heart hammers so loudly I’m sure everyone can hear it.
“Careful, Jonah,” Mom scolds in a whisper.
Jonah plasters on a smile. “Yeah, Jake definitely didn’t deserve Syd.”
I’m exhaling, glad Jonah backed off his thinly veiled insults when Brooks says, “You’re right, Holt. Jake didn’t appreciate what he had.” His eyes find mine. “He didn’t understand that Sydney isn’t just a beautiful face on the weather report. She’s the hardest working journalist at that station. She knows more about sports strategy than half the coaches in the county. She drove my grandmother to chemo when I couldn’t. She...” he pauses, swallowing hard. “She deserves someone who sees all of that. Someone who’s trying to be worthy of her, even if he’s not there yet.”
The silence that follows is deafening. I stare at Brooks, unable to process what just happened.
That wasn’t our script. Those weren’t rehearsed lines. That felt... real.
“Well said.” Dad raises his glass. “To Sydney. And to second chances.”
The toast saves us. But Jonah’s eyes remain fixed on Brooks, a silent communication passing between them.
Back off.
After dinner, it’s time for the cake. Brooks and I wheel it out together on a cart Mom reserves for special occasions, the seventy candles blazing so brightly it could guide ships to shore. The crowd breaks into an enthusiastic and off-key rendition of “Happy Birthday,” and I watch Maisie’s face, illuminated by candlelight, as she takes it all in.
For a moment, the cancer disappears. The chemo. The grim prognosis. She’s just Maisie Kingston, beloved grandmother, poker shark, and heart of the community, surrounded by people who adore her.
Brooks watches her too, his eyes bright. Without thinking, I slide my arm around his waist, comfortable. He pulls me closer, pressing a kiss to the top of my head that feels too natural, too real for this charade we’re playing.
