Page 73 of Second Chance with the Single Dad Goalie
She exhales a soft laugh, taking a sip of her own. “Agreed.”
Whitney walks in beside me, head high, shoulders back. She moves with the kind of confidence that turns heads effortlessly. Conversations pause, eyes linger - some filled with admiration, others with curiosity or surprise. Maybe they didn’t expect her to show up. Maybe they just can’t help but look. Either way, she commands attention without even trying.
It’s..., impressive. And yeah, kind of distracting.
She steers us toward a middle-aged man in a suit so bright it’s almost offensive to the eyes.
“Mr. Reynolds,” she says smoothly to a middle-aged man in a bright-colored suit, offering a warm smile. “It’s so good to see you.”
“Whitney,” he greets, his tone both pleased and a little surprised. “It’s been a while.”
Whitney tilts her head with a playful smile. "You know me, I pop in and out. Keeps things interesting."
“Yeah, how are you? You look incredible.”
“Thank you,” she says with a light laugh, brushing a curl from her face. “I’m doing amazing. How about you? How are Julianne and the kids?”
“They’re all good,” he says, nodding. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he adds, “Honestly, I didn’t think you’d come, given, you know…, the history.” He gestures vaguely in the direction of her ex.
She laughs. “It’s all in the past,” she says smoothly. Then, without missing a beat, she slides her hand onto mine, her fingers curling around my palm like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Besides, I’m with someone better.”
“Oh,” he says, looking at our hands.
“Yeah,” she lifts her chin slightly, her eyes locking onto Mr. Reynolds’s. “You know what they say - when God closes a door, somehow, He opens a window. This,” she squeezes my hand, “is my window. My boyfriend, Blake.”
I don’t miss the way Mr. Reynolds’s eyebrows lift slightly, nor do I miss the murmurs from nearby guests who are listening in. But all I can focus on is the warmth of her palm against mine, the way she sells it without a single crack in her composure.
Atta girl…!
I extend a hand, offering a polite smile. “Nice to meet you. Blake Carter.”
“Likewise,” he says, shaking my hand. “Blake…, Blake Carter?” His brow furrows. “The hockey goalie for the Avalanche team?”
“That would be me.”
His face lights up. “My son’s a huge fan.”
“Thanks so much. If you want an autograph for your son, I’d be happy to sign something.”
“I’d love that. He’d be over the moon.”
Mr. Reynolds chuckles, giving me an appreciative look. “Well, Whitney, you’ve got someone impressive.”
“She certainly has good taste,” I say lightly, throwing Whitney a teasing glance. Her lips twitch, and I can tell she’s trying not to roll her eyes.
As we move on, Whitney stops a few more times, greeting people like she’s running for office. Each time, she introduced me the same way - her boyfriend, Blake, a hockey player.
One of the women, a tall brunette in an elegant black dress, tilts her head with a knowing smirk. “Ohhh…, an upgrade,” she says playfully, her eyes flicking between Whitney and me. “You certainly know how to get ‘em, Whitney.”
Whitney laughs. “What can I say? I have good taste.”
I raise an eyebrow at her. “So, I’m just a trophy now?”
She gives me an innocent look. “You said it, not me.”
After a few more stops and chit-chats, we move toward the dessert table.
“You know how to work a room,” I say, watching as she scans the selection.
