“I’m Juliette,” I say, taking it. “Juliette Gianelli. I feed plants.”
“Ah!” Her grin goes from accommodating to knowing. “You’re the plant lady who has been tasked with our Plant Daddy. How’s that going?”
“Better than my first time being in a VIP box,” I say, gesturing to the pile of dirty clothes in my hand. “You know Sawyer, I take it?”
“I’m engaged to his cousin,” she says with a wink. She smiles, gesturing for me to follow her.
“Of course you are,” I choke a laugh. “And you’re also my saving grace today.”
“Happy to help. Playoff games deserve better than a chocolate circus.”
When we return to the box, the game has started. Theo is out on the balcony with Charlie, both of them leaning forward, fullyinvested. The ice glows beneath them, the players a blur of motion and purpose.
I slip back into my seat and check my phone.
Still nothing.
No missed calls. No texts. No David.
Theo turns around then, scanning the box like he’s counting heads. His smile fades a notch, and he lifts his hands, palms up, the universal question written all over his face.
Where is Dad?
I meet his eyes and give a small shake of my head.
“I don’t know,” I mouth back.
He nods, accepting it in that quiet way kids do when they’re used to disappointment—but his gaze drifts back to the ice, to the game, to something he can cheer for.
I follow his line of sight.
Sawyer streaks past the boards, focused, strong, exactly where he’s meant to be.
I breathe in, steadying myself. Cake disasters. Missing phone calls. Unexpected heroes with spare pants. This is parenting.
I slip back into my seat, watching skates carve clean lines across the ice. The puck snaps from stick to stick. The crowd rises and falls in unison, reacting a half-second before I do, like they’ve all agreed on the same collective heartbeat.
From here, I can tell that Theo is a bundle of nerves and excitement, calling out commentary that is only occasionally accurate. Charlie nods along like he’s watching a chess match.
I check my phone again, Vivian beside me and peering over my shoulder.
Still nothing.
I push the thought aside just as the energy in the arena spikes. A breakaway. A near miss. The kind of moment that pulls everyone forward, hands gripping rails, breath held.
“Mom!” Theo yells suddenly. “Mom, look! LOOK!”
I’m on my feet, hurrying out of the seats and to the railingbefore he finishes the sentence. Charlie and Vivian crowd in on either side of us, all gaping at the jumbotron.
HAPPY 10TH BIRTHDAY, THEO!
Theo absolutely loses his mind.
“That’s me!” he shouts, bouncing, waving both arms like the screen might miss him if he doesn’t. “That’s my name!”
I laugh, my throat tightening in that way that sneaks up on you when joy and relief collide. I wrap an arm around his shoulders as the camera finds us. A moment I would not have been prepared for a week ago, but thanks to Sawyer, today I am.
Theo beams beside me, waving like he’s personally responsible for powering the arena, and a five block radius around it, with pure enthusiasm.
