Page 107 of Love so Cold

"Okay, okay." I stand up, suddenly feeling the weight of responsibility settle back on my shoulders. A horn honking outside startles me and I remember that I had originally arranged for Samantha’s husband to pick up Olivia for a sleepover with Sophia.

“Mom, go!" Olivia pushes gently at my back, steering me toward the bedroom where my crumpled suit is waiting. “There isn’t much time!”

"Right," I concede, grabbing the suit and darting into the bathroom to change. As I button up my blouse, I can't help but chuckle. When did my little girl get so grown up?

"Remember, Mom," Olivia calls from the other side of the door, "you're doing this for all of us. We believe in you."

"Thanks, Liv," I say, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror. She's right. I've got this. For her, for our community, and even for myself.

I give her a kiss and a wave as she climbs into Sam’s minivan, her and Sophia already laughing and high-fiving together.

The steering wheel is cold under my palms as I start my own car and drive off. I drum my fingers on the leather, trying to sync with the steady beat of a song playing low on the radio. It's a futile attempt to distract myself from the knot of anxiety in my stomach. Victor's face keeps flashing in my mind, those piercing blue eyesand the way they softened when he talked about skating on that frozen pond.

"Come on, Avery, what are you doing?" I mutter to myself. This isn't just about Victor; it's about the community, about standing up for what's right. But my heart is a traitor, fluttering at the thought of him.

I pull into the parking lot, squeezing the car into a spot that's a little too tight. With a sigh, I kill the engine and sit for a moment, watching families stroll by. They're all oblivious to the turmoil inside me. I should be inside already, but my feet feel like they're encased in concrete.

"Hey, you made it!" Samantha's voice cuts through my reverie as I finally step out of the car. She's waiting by the entrance. Emily and Jessica are there too.

"Wasn't sure you'd show," Jessica says, her voice gentle. "You look... torn."

Emily gives me a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. "We've got your back, Avery. No matter what happens."

"Thanks, guys." The gratitude feels thick in my throat. "Really."

"Any word from Victor?" Samantha asks as we head inside together.

I shake my head, keeping my gaze fixed ahead. "Nope. Radio silence."

We find seats towards the back of the meeting room, the chatter around us a dull roar. I slide into the chair, feeling the cool press of the metal against my back through the thin fabric of my blazer.

"Any idea what's going to happen today?" Emily whispers, leaning close.

"None," I admit, fiddling with the hem of my sleeve. "With Victor, who knows? After everything that's happened..."

"Whatever he's planning, you'll handle it," Jessica says firmly. "You always do."

I nod, more to convince myself than them. The chairman's voice slices through the hum of conversations like a knife, clear and authoritative. "Order, please. This special meeting is now called to order for the sole purpose of discussing and voting on the Greystone Development project." A hush blankets the room, the weight of the words settling on each of us like snow.

"Let's welcome Mr. Victor Stone to the podium," the chairman continues, gesturing toward the front.

I can't help it; my eyes dart up, following Victor as he rises from his seat with that composed, almost regal demeanor he carries like a shield. He's all sharp lines and confidence. My chest tightens, breath hitching in an awkward rhythm.

"Look at him," I mutter under my breath, not sure if I'm talking to myself or my friends.

"You don't have to," Jessica whispers back, her hand finding my knee in a soft pat.

But I do. It's like the pull of a magnet, that need to see what his blue eyes are betraying—if anything. I want to read his face, search for clues, for any sign of the manwho'd once stepped onto the ice with kids and looked... alive.

"Deep breaths," Emily says, her fingers brushing against my arm in a soothing motion.

I take her advice, inhaling slowly, trying to fill my lungs with courage or indifference—anything but this tangled mess of nerves and feelings. Samantha squeezes my hand, a silent message of solidarity. I squeeze back, grateful.

Victor's voice fills the room, steady and unexpectedly gentle. "I could stand here today and list all the perks of Greystone," he begins, and I force myself to look at him. His eyes scan the crowd, but they don't linger on me. Not yet. "But the truth is," he continues, "I've spent the last month really seeing Worcester for the first time. And what I've seen has changed everything."

I squint at him, trying to decipher his game. This isn't the script of a man about to bulldoze our lives for profit.

"Greystone, as it was conceived, is wrong for this city," he admits, and a murmur ripples through the crowd. My heart skips. He gets it? Really?

---