Understanding hits her in stages.
First confusion.
Then dawning horror.
Then wide-eyed panic.
“Oh,” she breathes. “Oh no.”
“Yeah. But he took it well when we told him we’re dating. Living together. Marriage isn’t that much of a stretch.”
Her hand flies to her hair. “Oh God. I hope so. So we do it at dinner tomorrow?”
“There’s no better time.”
“There are definitely better times,” she says faintly. “Like… never?”
Despite everything, I almost smile.
“Talia. We tell him it was private. Simple courthouse ceremony. We don’t need to share the… colorful details. We can handle this.”
She lets out a long breath. “Okay. Okay. You’re right.”
“Tomorrow,” I say.
“Tomorrow,” she echoes.
***
Coach Petrov’s house looks exactly like I remember.
With an immaculate trimmed lawn in front, the kind of place where nothing is out of place because nothing is allowed to be.
I park at the curb and kill the engine.
Beside me, Talia sits very still.
She’s dressed nicely, hair pinned back, makeup subtle. Like she’s armor-plated herself into the version of “normal girlfriend” her father expects.
Her fingers twist together in her lap.
She looks at the front door like it mightbite.
“You okay?” I ask.
She lets out a breath that sounds like it hurts. “No.”
I nod once. “Same.”
I reach over and cover her hand with mine.
“But we can do this,” I say quietly. “Together.”
We step out of the car and walk up the path to the house side by side.
I knock.
A moment passes. Then the door opens.
