Page 37 of Love so Cold

"We'll see, baby girl," I reply, keeping my voice light. "We'll see."

Chapter Nineteen

Victor

"Are you in line?"a voice cuts through the din of conversation and clinking cutlery.

I turn, offering a polite shake of my head to the woman behind me. "No, I'm not." Checking my watch, I note that I'm a couple of minutes early. Avery should be here any second. Punctuality is a shield in the business world—it gives you the high ground, makes sure no one catches you off guard. And today, I need all the advantages I can get. Because even though every rational part of me is screaming that this is strictly business, there's an undercurrent of... something else. But no, I'm here for the meeting. Just business.

The bell above the café door chimes, pulling me out of my internal pep talk. In floods a trio of women, agaggle of kids in tow, their laughter spilling into the space like sunlight. My eyes narrow slightly as recognition dawns; they're from the hockey team.

"Hey, aren't you Coach Victor?" Samantha strides over with a confidence I remember from the rink sidelines, her daughter Sophia mirroring her buoyant step.

"Uh, interim coach," I correct, trying to mask my confusion under a thin veneer of charm. "But yeah, that's me."

"Hi, I'm Jessica," another chimes in, nudging a shy Lucas forward. She smiles, but it's laced with something akin to mischief.

"Emily," the last one offers, with Ethan clutching her hand, looking up at me with calculating eyes.

"Nice to officially meet you all." I force a grin, one that doesn't quite reach my eyes. Their giggles set off alarm bells in a corner of my mind reserved for cautious skepticism.

I run a hand through my hair, a telltale sign of my discomfort. A stray lock falls back into place, defiant against my attempt at order. Why do they seem so... giddy? It's like they're sharing a private joke, one that's got everything to do with me and nothing to do with hockey.

"Nice to have you helping out with the team," Samantha adds, her smile broadening.

"Thanks." The word comes out clipped, a reflection of my inner tension. These women—they're friendsof Avery's, I realize. Friends who clearly know more than they should about why I'm here today. But that's a puzzle for later. Right now, I need to focus on the meeting—the business meeting—with Avery.

"Will you sit with us while you wait for your friend?" Jessica gestures to the adjoining table, still teeming with the bubbling energy of children discussing the latest game.

"Actually, I think I'll just wait here," I say, declining the invitation.

Samantha leans in, her voice a mock-whisper that's loud enough for her companions to hear. "We all know it's 'business,'" she says, air-quoting with her fingers and winking.

"Lots of business to be done, huh?" Jessica chimes in, the giggles from the trio intensifying.

I'm about to question their assumptions, set the record straight, when the door's chime cuts through the cozy café din. There she is—Avery, with Olivia's hand in hers, stepping into the warmth. The sight alone has me straightening up, brushing off invisible dust from my jacket as if her gaze could pick out each thread.

My eyes lock with Avery's, and there's no mistaking her eye roll at what she sees. It's like she's read the subtitles to Samantha's and Jessica's teasing and found them lacking in humor. Olivia catches sight of me and breaks free from her mom, barreling across the room with the unbridled enthusiasm only a kid can muster.

"Hey, Coach Victor!" Her voice is loud and bright.

"Hey, superstar." I drop down on one knee, putting myself at her level. It's instinctual, the same way you respond to skates hitting ice—a natural reflex.

"Did you see they put us on the news?" Olivia's brown eyes are wide with excitement.

"I did."

She beams, and I can't help but mirror her smile.

"I can't wait for the next game! I know we're going to win!"

Her enthusiasm is contagious, and the other kids begin to rock back and forth, smiling at what she says. I try to push down the small bloom of happiness that I can feel inside my heart when I look at their faces. It's something I remember experiencing as a kid too, but it's so much harder when you've known it and then it's taken away.

I give her shoulder a light squeeze before standing back up to face Avery fully. She looks... different than she did the last time we spoke. There's an edge to her, like she's ready to spar with words or walk away entirely.

"Hi, Avery," I say, keeping it simple, direct.

"Hi, Victor." Her response is equally succinct, and she's still holding that skeptical look, like she's waiting for the other shoe to drop.

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