“How did she do today?” she asks. “Is there anything I should be working on with her at home?”
I shift my weight slightly, grounding myself before answering. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I register that the steady, quiet, calm settling through me feels a lot like the ring does when I rub it, and I make a mental note to ask Dr. Hale why it works—because if there are other ways to feel like this, I want to know them.
“She’s doing well,” I say. “Her positioning’s improved. She’s starting to read the play a little earlier instead of reacting late.” I gesture lightly, keeping it simple. “You could work on stick control—tight spaces, quick touches. We want her to be more comfortable handling under pressure.”
Danielle nods along like she’s right there with me.
“Right, okay. Yeah. That makes sense.”
I’m not sure it does.
“But I can do that,” she adds, brushing her hair back again. “Imean, if I pay for some one-on-one coaching. Just to give her a bit of an edge, you know?”
“Yeah,” I say, nodding once. “That’s a good idea if you want to go that route and she’s that serious. My sister did that and it helped her career.”
She smiles, a little too bright. “Yeah, I think I might.”
I reset my footing and glance up. Across the room, Vivian’s looking at me. Then her gaze shifts. It’s quick, assessing—taking in Danielle standing a little too close, a little too angled in, before her attention falls back to me.
Danielle follows my line of sight, then smiles like she’s just remembered something.
“I was thinking,” she says, fingers still in her hair, voice dipping just enough to feel intentional, “maybe I could hire you. If you’d like to be herprivatecoach.”
My head turns before I can stop it.
“Private” lands wrong. Or maybe too pointed. “I?—”
There’s a clatter of sound as chairs scrape and tiny desks shift. When I glance up again, Vivian’s already moving. Straight across the room, no hesitation, weaving through the last of the girls and their parents like she’s got a destination in mind.
Which, apparently?—
Is me.
She closes the distance fast, and doesn’t slow down. She doesn’t give me a second to figure out what she’s doing before her arms are around me.
“Hey, baby,” she says, bright and easy, like we do this all the time. She stands on her tiptoes and places her beautiful, soft lips on mine.
The moment is quick. Her lips are warm. And this woman is not subtle.
She steps away and cocks her head to one side. “Thanks for waiting for me.”
For a second, my brain tries to put two and two together, but I keep coming up with ten. Behind her, the room erupts. There’sa chorus of squeals, a couple of outright “Oh my gosh!” from the girls who definitely did not miss that.
I’m still looking at her, trying to catch up to what just happened, when I glance past her, at Danielle. Who is still there and still watching, but not quite as close anymore.
Ava appears at Danielle’s side like she’s been waiting for her cue.
“Mom,” she says, already reaching for her hand. “I need to show you what I made.”
Danielle glances down, momentarily pulled out of whatever she was about to say next. “Oh, okay, honey.”
Ava doesn’t wait. She takes her hand and starts tugging her toward the door, already talking, already halfway out of the room.
Danielle goes with her, casting one last look back over her shoulder that doesn’t quite land the same way it did a minute ago. And then they’re gone.
The room continues to empty, the girls buzzing as they pack up, voices overlapping again but lighter now, energized.
Hannah slows on her way past us. She looks at Vivian, then at me, and back to Vivian. A slow grin spreads across her face.
