Page 22 of Holidate Scramble
"Something like that." He met my eyes. "What about you? What makes you happy, Piper Summers?"
"This," I said without thinking. "Creating moments where people connect, where they feel part of something larger than themselves." I gestured toward the rink where families laughed and couples held hands. "Seeing people make memories."
"You're good at it."
"It's easier than what you do. You save lives. I just organize parties."
"Don't diminish it." His voice held surprising intensity. "What you do matters. Connection matters."
Before I could respond, a flash of burgundy caught my eye—a tall, elegant woman standing at the edge of the rink, watching us with undisguised interest. The same woman I'd glimpsed through the restaurant window last night.
"Rhett," I said quietly, "do you know that woman in the burgundy coat? By the welcome table?"
He turned, following my gaze, and froze mid-stride. His hand tightened almost painfully around mine.
"Adrienne," he said, the name sounding like gravel in his throat.
"Your ex-wife?" I whispered, suddenly understanding why she'd been watching us the night before.
"Yes." His jaw clenched. "What is she doing here?"
"Does she live nearby?"
"Boston. She hasn't been to Starlight Bay in years."
The woman—Adrienne—noticed us looking and lifted her hand in a small, deliberate wave. She was striking—tall and slender with chestnut hair styled in a sleek low chignon. Everything about her screamed expensive taste, from her tailored coat to her leather boots.
"You should probably go say hello," I suggested, though the thought made my stomach knot.
Rhett's expression darkened. "I don't have to."
"She clearly came to find you. Better to address it directly than have her lurking around all day."
He sighed, knowing I was right. "Stay beside me?"
"Of course."
We skated toward the rink exit, Rhett's steadying hand never leaving mine. As we stepped off the ice, Adrienne approached with the confident stride of someone accustomed to commanding attention.
"Rhett," she said, her voice carrying the crisp precision of someone in a position of authority. "What a surprise."
"Is it?" Rhett's tone was clipped. "Considering you're two hours from Boston in a town you've claimed to hate."
"The hospital gala," she replied smoothly. "NeuraTech is a major sponsor this year. As VP of Marketing, my attendance was required." Her gaze shifted to me, assessing and dismissive in the span of seconds. "Aren't you going to introduce your... little friend?"
"Adrienne, this is Piper Summers. Piper, my ex-wife, Adrienne Whitney."
I extended my hand, forcing a smile. "Nice to meet you."
Her handshake was brief, her fingers barely touching mine. "Charmed, I'm sure." She turned back to Rhett.
"Rhett's been kind enough to help with the Alzheimer's Foundation events I'm coordinating,” I blurted out before I could stop myself.
"How... charitable." Her lips curved into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Rhett always did have a soft spot for lost causes."
Rhett stiffened beside me. "Piper's campaign has already raised thousands for Alzheimer's research."
"Of course." She waved a dismissive hand. "I didn't mean to imply otherwise. It's just—" she paused, her gaze traveling from Rhett to me and back, "—interesting to see your midlife crisis taking such a predictable turn."
