She pretends not to hear me, so I walk toward her desk. As I do, I remind myself that she’s just a teenager, and being a teenage girl can be hard. Maybe her rich parents neglect her emotionally, and she’s starved for attention. Maybe she’s on a diet, like me, and it’s making her hangry. Or maybe she’s in love with a boy who doesn’t love her back.
Or maybe she’s just a bratty teenager who gets a kick out of tormenting me.
I reach the back row and stand next to her desk. “Vanessa.”
Finally, she looks up and feigns surprise. “Oh. Good morning, Ms. Lawrence. Did you need something?”
“Please put your knitting away.”
Her perfectly shaped eyebrows draw together. “Is there a rule against knitting in class?”
“There is in my class. The noise is distracting.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Ms. Lawrence. I didn’t realize I was distracting you.” She gives me a big smile. “I’ll put it away as soon as I finish this row.”
I grit my teeth. I’d like to insist she stop immediately, but I’m not sure what I’d do if she refuses. If I send her to the principal’s office, Carole Chan will know I can’t control my class, and while that’s true, I’d rather not advertise it.
So I walk back to the front of the room and force myself to continue teaching. By some miracle, Vanessa honors her word and puts her knitting away a few minutes later, and I make it through the lesson without any more interruptions.
As usual, my second class is easier, but I still sigh with relief when I escape Brookline Academy to go pick up Liam. Shortly after we get home, I get a text from Austin, telling me he’s looking forward to seeing me at his hockey game tonight.
As I make Liam a peanut butter sandwich, I consider replying to say I can’t make it. Part of me—the honest part—knows the real reason I agreed to go to the game was because I wanted to see Luke. But after what happened last night, Luke’s the last person I want to see.
I set Liam’s sandwich in front of him along with a glass of milk, then pick up my phone again. It wouldn’t behard to make an excuse; I could tell Austin that my babysitting arrangements fell through, or that I have the flu.
But one of the resolutions I made when I moved to Somerset was to grow a backbone. I shouldn’t let my messy feelings for Luke Carlton keep me away from a hockey game. Hell, maybe what I need is a no-strings fling with Austin Davenport. It might scratch the itch I’ve been struggling with for the past couple of weeks.
So instead of replying to say I can’t come, I send Austin a message that I’m excited to see him play.
That evening, Sophie’s cousin Grace shows up to babysit wearing a Taylor Swift T-shirt, which earns her Claire’s instant friendship. Grace has kind brown eyes and a warm smile, and within a few minutes, Liam’s smitten with her too. I give her a tour of the house and go over the kids’ bedtime routine, and leave feeling confident that my kids are in good hands.
The game’s already started when I get to the arena. I guess the Thursday night Men’s League doesn’t draw the big crowds, because there’s only one other spectator in the stands, a stylishly dressed young woman hunched over a laptop. She looks up and smiles as I’m walking past, and I take it as an invitation to join her.
“Hey. I’m Dr. Sloane Reynolds,” she says politely, as I plop myself down next to her.
“Melissa Lawrence,” I reply, forcing myself to return Dr. Sloane’s smile. I find myself wondering if Luke introduces himself as ‘Dr. Luke Carlton’ in social contexts. But maybe Dr. Sloane’s not trying to be obnoxious, she just wants me to know she’s qualified in case there’s a medical emergency.
“Who are you here to watch?”
I open my mouth to say Luke, because for so manyyears, it was him. Fortunately, I catch myself in time. “Austin Davenport.”
“Austin,” Sloane says, in a tone of voice that tells me she knows him. Her impeccably plucked eyebrows rise slightly, and I can feel her gaze sweep down my body. I’m wearing a puffer jacket, brand-new Banana Republic jeans (my pre-divorce pants still don’t fit), and sneakers. I brushed my hair and put on some mascara, but after all, this is a hockey rink.
But I can tell Sloane doesn’t think I look like Austin’s usual type. She looks like she’s ready for a fashion show, in a tan cashmere coat, skinny jeans, and high-heeled boots. Even though she’s sitting down, I can tell she’s got legs for miles. Hell, they’d probably make a gazelle jealous.
I look down at the ice, trying to find the man I’m here to watch. Fortunately, the jerseys have names on the back, or I wouldn’t have recognized Austin under all the equipment. He plays right wing, and he must have played a lot of hockey growing up, because he’s one of the better players on the team. Almost as good as Luke, who’s playing next to him as the center forward.
When the play stops on an offside call, Austin sees me in the stands. He gives me a wave and a wink, and Sloane notices.
“How long have you been together?” she asks.
“Oh, we’re not together,” I explain quickly. “He just invited me to come watch the game.”
“Oh.” I can tell Sloane’s curious about our relationship, and I can understand why. The fact I’m willing to spend an evening freezing my butt in a stinky arena suggests that if Austin and I aren’t already together, I certainly wish we were.
“Who are you here for?” I ask, hoping to redirect her.
“Luke Carlton.” Her lips curve upward into a little smile. “Do you know him?”
