Page 14 of Playing for Keeps

Lewis perked up. “What happened this time? Didn’t you just survive Cat Lady?”

Will chimed in, wagging his finger like a teacher. “Melissa. With three cats and, like, six thousand pictures of them. Don’t forget the details.”

“Yeah, thanks for reminding me,” I muttered. “At least Melissa just talked about her cats. This one took selfies for two straight hours. Different angles. Different lighting. Same face. I don’t think she knows what my eye colour is.”

Seth slapped the bench. “Buddy, you’ve got a gift. Nobody else finds dates like this.”

Lewis shook his head, laughing. “Hey, at least Cat Lady talked to you. This one sounded like she only wanted you to hold her phone charger.”

I laughed along, but honestly, it felt empty inside. It wasn’t just the bad dates. Every single one made me feel like I was auditioning for a role I didn’t understand. Like everyone else got the script but me.

“Maybe I just have bad luck.” I tried to sound more casual than I felt.

Seth shook his head, smirking. “Nah, you’re overthinking it. That’s your problem. Keep it casual, man. Don’t go chasing ‘the one’ – just have fun.”

Will sat up straight, shocked, and pointed at Seth with his elbow pad. “That’s terrible advice. Don’t listen to him, Finn. You just have to wait for the right woman to come along. It’s about love, not… hookups.”

“Here we go.” Lewis rolled his eyes. “Romeo over here is writing poetry in his spare time.”

“I don’t write poetry,” Will protested. “But when it happens, it happens, you know? You’ll see. Finn will find her.”

Seth grinned, shaking his head. “Yeah, probably at a pet store or an Instagram convention at this rate.”

Everyone cracked up again. I shoved my gear into my bag and laughed with them, shaking my head. “Thanks, guys. Real supportive.”

Will threw his arm around my shoulders as we were heading out. “Don’t worry, buddy. Third time’s the charm. I can feel it.”

“More like third strike,” Seth snorted, grinning, and I chucked a tape ball at him just as the door swung shut behind us.

Suddenly, everything got quiet – the usual hush after practice. It hadn’t been easy – not finding what I was looking for, not even knowing exactly what that was. Out on the ice, at least, I always I knew what to do.

8

EMMA

By the time I got to Denise St Clair’s office lobby, Toronto had already started to change its colours for autumn, with red and gold trees lining the streets outside. I had been here for just over a month. During that time, I had unpacked boxes, got lost in lecture halls, and watched students argue about Jane Austen with a lot more passion than I had expected. And now I was here to face the other half of my life: the books.

Denise’s assistant walked me through the short corridor into an office that could only belong to an editor. It was neat but lived-in; three walls were lined with organised shelves, brimming full of books. A tall window looked out over the street and let in light that fell on a big oak desk worn smooth by years of use. There was nothing on it except for a laptop, a stack of manuscripts, and a mug of black coffee.

“Emma.” Denise got to her feet as I came in. She was maybe in her mid-forties, with sharp eyes and dark hair pinned up in a way that looked more practical than polished.

We shook hands, and she pointed to the chair across from her. “It’s great to finally meet you in person. I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“Me too,” I said, settling in. The chair was upholstered in a soft grey fabric that reminded me of damp mornings in Edinburgh. “Even though it feels strange to start working with someone new after working with Jonathan for so long.”

Her smile changed into something that showed she understood. “He speaks very fondly of you. Said you’d be the best thing that ever happened to whoever took you on.”

That brought heat to my cheeks, and I tried to hide it by smoothing my skirt. “That’s kind of him.”

“He also told me you’d try something completely new and that it would be my job to make sure you didn’t drown in it.”

I laughed, because of course Jonathan had said that. “I do have the itch. Every time I finish a book, I want to go in a completely different direction.”

“And you’ve pulled it off,” Denise said, folding her hands on the desk. “Your debut didn’t just do well – it startled people. But the Edinburgh series – that was what really put you on the map. The way you made the city feel like a character, along with the atmosphere and intimacy, were all amazing. Not just the sales, Emma. The prizes. Quite something for someone who’s only twenty-seven.”

I ducked my head, embarrassed. “I’ve been lucky.”

“Luck and talent,” she corrected. “Not many people have both. Which brings us to now. Tell me what’s next.”