Page 73 of Playing for Payback
"I know you do." He stands, straightening his Fury polo shirt. "By the way, the Black and Gold Gala is coming up. Important event for the organization. All team leadership are expected to attend. The donors genuinely like talking to our dentist at these shindigs. War stories and whatnot…"
"I'll be there," I assure him.
"Good. Keep up the good work." With a final pointed look, he leaves, closing the door behind him.
I bite back a groan. If I needed further confirmation that my relationship with Alder is under scrutiny, that was it. The team values discretion, and we've been anything but discreet.
My apartment search needs to be my top priority—notjust for my career but also for my sanity. Living with Alder while trying to maintain professional boundaries is becoming impossible, especially after this weekend.
My phone buzzes, my mother's name flashing on the screen—perfect timing, as usual.
"Hi, Mom," I answer, steeling myself.
"Lena, darling. I've been trying to reach you for days." Her voice has that tone where I can tell she’s about to say something mean. "Too busy with famous athletes to call your mother?"
"Of course not. I've just been busy with the new job."
"The hockey position? How's that going? Have they realized they made a mistake yet?" She laughs lightly as if she's made a joke instead of questioning my competence.
"Actually, it's going really well," I say, ignoring the barb. "I'm getting settled in."
"And where are you living now? Did you work things out with Brad?"
I wince. "No, Mom. That's over."
"Hmm." She sounds disappointed as if my refusal to reconcile with a cheating boyfriend is somehow a failure on my part. "So you found your own place?"
"I'm in a temporary situation while I look for something permanent." Not technically a lie, though I doubt she'd approve of my current "situation."
"Well, don't wait too long. Good apartments are harder to come by than good men,” she says as if I don't know this from weeks of searching. "And with your student loans, you can't be picky."
"I'm aware of my financial limitations, Mom."
"I'm just being realistic, darling." She sighs. "So, what else is new?"
I hesitate, then decide to mention the gala. If nothing else, maybe she'll have practical advice about formal wear: "The team is having a charity event soon. I need to find a dress."
"A formal event? Well, I'm sure you have something appropriate in your closet." Her voice takes on that careful tone she uses when discussing my appearance. "Something black and plain would be best. No need to draw attention to yourself."
Of course. Heaven forbid I wear something that might truly make me feel good about myself.
"I thought I might get something new," I say, surprising myself with the defiance in my voice.
"Oh, Lena." She sighs again. "You know how hard it is to find flattering formal wear in your size. Why waste the money? Just wear something dark and conservative that you already own."
I glance at the clock. "I should go, Mom. I have patients waiting."
"Alright, dear. Just remember what I said. Black, simple, no fuss. It's what works for you."
I hang up, feeling deflated yet irritated—the familiar emotional cocktail my mother specializes in serving. She's wrong, of course. I know she's wrong. But part of me still hears her voice when I shop for clothes and see myself through her critical eyes.
It’s hard not to slip back to memories of my time in bed with Alder, the way he looked at my body with reverence, ran his hands along me like I was a precious work of art…
My phone buzzes again, this time with a text from an unknown number.
Hi Lena! This is Emerson (Gunnar's wife). Got your number from Alder's phone. Hope that's okay! Fern’s taking me shopping for the charity gala this weekend. Would love for you to join! Us curvy girls need to stick together.
I stare at the text, warmth blooming in my chest even as a knot forms in my stomach. Emerson and Fern—Wyatt'sgirlfriend, who is back from London for the wedding—are reaching out to include me, which feels unexpectedly nice. But the prolonged interaction with Alder’s family is a painful reminder of my precarious position.
