Page 38 of Love so Cold

"Nice to see you," I add, because what else is there to say in front of an audience of moms practically swooning at the sight of a man talking to a child? It's almost comical,or it would be if I weren't trying so hard to keep everything professional, everything business.

"Likewise," Avery replies, though her tone suggests it's anything but.

"Can I sit with Sam and the others, Mom?" Olivia's eyes flicker between the cluster of her friends and Avery, a hopeful glint in them that's hard to say no to.

"Sure, sweetie." Avery's smile doesn't quite reach her eyes as she sends a glance my way. I can almost hear her thoughts—breakfast alone with me wasn't part of the plan. She nods towards the booth where Samantha, Emily, and Jessica are corralling their kids, and Olivia darts off like a freed sparrow.

"Looks like it's just us then," I say, trying to ease the tension. I suggest a table close to the noisy group, but Avery points to a secluded corner at the back. "Back there is fine," she says. It throws me—the distance she's putting between us—and not just the physical kind.

We order, simple fare that doesn't require much thought, and make our way to the table she chose. There's a moment, heavy and thick, where neither of us knows what to say. The clatter of dishes and laughter from the other moms doesn't reach this far corner, and it feels like we're in a bubble—just me and Avery, with too much air and not enough words.

I rub the back of my neck, feeling the weight of her gaze. "So, I guess I should start since this was my idea," I break the silence.

"Yeah, you should," Avery agrees, folding her arms across her chest. Her guard is up; I can tell by the set of her jaw, the way her eyes don't shy away from mine. It's game on, and I'm not even sure what play I'm running.

I lean in, elbows on the table, and take out my pad and pen. "I want to hear everything, Avery. Every concern you and the community have about the development," I say earnestly, watching her face for any sign of disbelief.

"Everything?" she repeats. "You sure?"

I nod. "Yes."

She takes a deep breath, and it's like floodgates opening.

"First, there's the issue of displacement..." she begins, and I scribble down quick shorthand notes onto the small pad. It's been a while since I took anything down by hand, but her points are too important to trust to memory alone.

"Traffic concerns, loss of local charm, effects on small businesses..." She rattles off each point with a passion that's both admirable and intimidating. Her knowledge isn't just skin-deep; this is someone who has done her homework, someone who cares deeply about her turf.

"Environmental impact, especially on the green spaces that the kids use..." As she continues, I find myself nodding, not just in acknowledgment, but in respect. Avery's got a fire in her, and it's burning bright enough to make me reconsider a fewthings.

Just as she finishes outlining a point about infrastructure strain, our food arrives, breaking the intensity of our exchange. The server sets down plates, providing a brief but welcome distraction.

"Thank you for sharing all this with me," I tell her once we're alone again. She looks at me with those sharp eyes, searching for sarcasm or dismissal, but she won't find it. "I'm not here to bulldoze your concerns. They're valid, and I want to address them properly."

"Really?" Her skepticism is clear as day, but I can't blame her. Guys like me don't usually do deep listening—it’s not the playbook we're given.

"Really. I'm going to take this back to my team so we can go through each of them carefully." I lean back in the booth and take a bite of my sandwich, the corner of my mouth quirking up as I catch Avery's gaze. "You know, when I review your concerns, we'll have to do this again. Call it... due diligence."

Avery arches an eyebrow at me, her fork pausing mid-air. "Is that code for trying to get me to sit through another meal with you?" She sets her fork down with a clink against the plate.

"Would it be so bad if it was?" I ask, feeling a risky kind of thrill at the challenge in her eyes. "Can you blame a guy for wanting to have dinner with a beautiful woman?"

For a moment, I worry that I've overstepped.

"Nobody said anything about dinner," she counters, but the edge to her voice has softened just a fraction.

"Ah, so lunch is acceptable then?" I tease, and we volley back and forth like this for a moment, the air filling with something lighter than before.

"Maybe," she concedes with a reluctant smile,

and I think, yeah, maybe this won't just be business after all.

Before I can ride that thought any further, the sound of little sneakers padding across the floor pulls our attention away from the banter. Olivia stands beside us, her cheeks flushed with the joy of youth and friendship.

"Mom, I'm done eating." Then, turning to me, she asks, "Coach Victor, will you still be our coach?"

"Coach Marty is planning to return," I assure her. But she's persistent, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"But how do you know so much?" she presses. The question hits a raw nerve, one I haven't exposed in years. I hesitate, aware of Avery's attentive gaze on me. How much to reveal? How much of the past can I let seep into this new beginning?

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