Present
The arena was alive with joy.
The Skate for Change event was in full swing — skates scraping, kids screaming, whistles blowing, holiday music echoing off the metal rafters. It was loud and messy and too cold for anyone sane to call it cozy, but everything in me melted, anyway.
This was what I lived for.
All the days planning, the nights of long, hard work, the behind-the-scenes emails and phone calls and schedule management to make it all happen — it all led to this. There was nothing like seeing your vision come to life even better than you imagined, to look around at a literal arena full of smiles and know you made it happen.
“Okay, check-in tables are stocked, raffle tickets ready, donation boxes out,” I murmured, ticking through my mental list as I weaved between clusters of people in the lobby. Sweet Dreams banners hung from the railings, the logo bright and hopeful. Volunteers in matching t-shirts stood at folding tables, greeting families with smiles and Sharpies in hand.
A little girl in a knit hat beamed as she slid a paper wristband up her arm. “Do I really get to skate with the players?” she asked her mom.
“Sure do,” I interjected, winking at the mom when she smiled at me. “They’re all out there waiting.”
She squealed and tugged her mom toward the rental skates.
My wrist throbbed as I reached to straighten a banner stand. The ache pulsed under my bracelets, where the faint shadow of a bruise hid against my skin. I flexed my fingers, wincing, and told myself the same story I’d been repeating for days.
It was the chicken pan. The box of brochures. The lifting.
Not… anything else.
That dinner party felt like a lifetime ago now, the days blurred by event prep and a showering of love from my husband. Nathan had been so over-the-top helpful the last week that it made my head spin. He’d planted sweet kisses on my cheek in the morning, sent texts every afternoon:How’s planning going, sweetheart? So proud of you.
He’d hired a housekeeperanda chef, telling me it would help me lean all my focus into Sweet Dreams. He’d bought the gorgeous dress I wore now, a deep, brick-red and velvet-laced number that cinched my waist and flowed like magic down to my heels. He’d come home every night all week, spending quality time with me — watching movies, making ice cream sundaes, telling me how excited he was to see what I did with the event.
This morning, there were flowers on the counter with a note:Tonight’s going to be a home run. I’m lucky to have you.
If my life were a theme park ride, then I’d just been whipped backward and through a loop. My head was spinning and aching trying to make sense of it all.
But I didn’t think of any of that tonight. All my focus was on Skate for Change.
“Look at this place,” Maven said, suddenly at my side with her hands coming up to frame my arms. She looked around with pure wonder in her eyes. “This is insane.”
Grace appeared on my other side like she teleported, linking her arm with mine. “I feel like I’m at some Hallmark movie event, but, like, one that doesn’t suck.”
I laughed, the sound coming easier than it had in days. “That’s the goal. Cheesy but effective.”
“Have you seen the donation numbers?” Grace asked, nodding toward the big clear box by the doors. Crumpled bills and folded checks were stacked inside, and there was a QR code for people to scan if they didn’t have cash. “I cannotwaitto see the final number on the jumbotron later. I’ve been clocking the people in attendance, and there’s somebig moneyin here. How the hell did you get Robert Jennings to attend?!”
Robert Jennings was the CEO of Jennings Financial — and there was a literal skyscraper named after his family’s business just two blocks away.
“That would be Nathan, actually,” I said, hating how my stomach soured a bit at the admission. It was a great thing that he’d brought in such great benefactors, but something about it ate at me. “He’s been calling in a lot of favors for tonight.”
“Bless that man,” Grace said.
“And the players are having a blast,” Maven added. “Vince is already out there trying to impress toddlers with his toe-drags. You did this, Ari.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. “We did this,” I corrected. “You two, PR, the shelter, the team—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you’re a team player,” Grace cut in, rolling her eyes fondly. “But seriously. This is all you. You look happy, and you should be. This is your baby, and these are its first steps. Soak it in, darling.”
The words landed in a place that hadn’t felt anything in a while.
For a heartbeat, I let myself feel it — the buzz of the crowd, the laughter, the smell of popcorn and ice and cheap hot chocolate. Kids who never got anything special were getting a night on the ice. Sweet Dreams was getting money for beds.
Iwashappy.
