Page 37 of One Pucking Life

But the peace doesn’t last.

A woman in a glittering, microscopic black dress slinks up beside Max. Her long fingers—tipped in dagger-like nails—slide around his arm like they’ve done it a thousand times before.

“If it isn’t Maxwell Park,” she purrs, too close, too familiar.

Max stiffens. “Hey there… Melody.”

He pauses just a beat too long before saying her name. Like he had to reach for it. Or wanted to forget it.

I don’t want to know who she is. Or what she was. I step away from Max’s side and slip into the circle around Caroline. She’s the reason I’m here. And at this moment, she’s the only one I want to focus on.

The evening moves on.

Max gets pulled away for photo ops with the team. The ballroom buzzes with music, food, and bidding wars over silent auction baskets. I talk with Iris and some of the wives, but eventually, they drift away—to dance, to eat, to mingle.

Caroline falls asleep in my arms, her soft breath warm against my collarbone. I leave the noisy ballroom and find a quiet three-season room down the hall. Floor-to-ceiling windows line the walls, and outside, snow drifts lazily under the glow of streetlamps.

I settle onto a plush sofa and let my head rest against the back. Exhaustion pulls at me, and for a few minutes, I close my eyes.

Then I hear the door open.

“There you are,” Max says gently, stepping into the room. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

I offer him a tired smile.

“I’m sorry I got caught up in there.”

“Stop apologizing,” I say sincerely. “We’re fine.”

He glances down at Caroline, then back at me. “We should probably head out soon, huh?”

I rise from the sofa, baby still tucked against me. “Sure.” I try not to soundtoorelieved.

He frowns. “This wasn’t fun for you. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dragged you here.”

“It’s fine. Really. It was great meeting your friends. They loved seeing Caroline. And hey—I rarely have a reason to dress up.”

His gaze skims down my dress and back up again, slower than it should be. “I don’t know if I told you this yet, but… you look incredible tonight.”

My pulse stutters. “Thanks. You look pretty good yourself.”

He shifts his weight, nervous energy buzzing between us. “Do you have time for a dance before we go?”

“Oh… I don’t know…” I glance down at the baby, sleeping soundly against my chest.

“Just a quick one. Right here,” he says. “I love this song.”

Music floats in faintly from the ballroom. I hesitate, then gently lay Caroline down on the sofa. She doesn’t stir.

Max steps closer, placing his hand lightly on the small of my back. He guides me toward the center of the room. The touch is barely there, but it sends a slow burn up my spine.

We begin to sway.

I focus on the snow outside. It’s easier than looking at him. Being in Max’s arms feels too right—and that’s exactly why I know it’s wrong.

As we dance, he thanks me again for everything I do for Caroline. It's kind. It's genuine.

And it’s also a reminder.

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