Page 136 of ICED
CHAPTER FIFTY
MAYA
Iknow it’s ridiculous.
I know Ollie is trustworthy. I know Lila loves him. And still, I’m clutching my phone with the anxious intensity of someone about to launch a space shuttle.
I re-read the checklist for the third time before I hit send.
MAYA: Lila should be in bed by 7:30. She can have one cup of milk before bed but only if it’s warmed but not too hot, just warm enough. No scary stories. She says she’s brave, but she is not. Avoid all films with villainous octopi. Do not let her trick you into a second dessert. She WILL try. Also, she talks a big game, but she still sleeps with the bunny. It needs to be on the left side of the bed.
Emergency contacts: Me (obviously). Jacko. Fire, police, poison control. Dylan (in case you lose all common sense).
I hit send.
Almost immediately, Ollie replies with a voice memo.
OLLIE: “Maya. My love. My queen. My slightly terrifying co-parent-for-the-evening. We’re gonna be FINE. We’ve got Moana queued up, I’ve bought fruit snacks shaped like dinosaurs, and I’ll pre-warm the milk with a thermometer. Go make out with your boyfriend. BYE.”
I groan, dropping my head into my hands. Then I laugh. God, I needed that.
The nerves don’t vanish entirely, but they settle enough that I can go get ready without pacing like a trapped animal.
I haven’t worn much makeup in months, but I line my eyes with a careful hand and dust powder over my cheeks. I choose a soft muted tone for my lips and sweep mascara over my lashes. Not too shabby, even if I say so myself. I try not to overthink the flush of nerves beneath my ribs as I open the wardrobe and stare inside.
What does someone wear on a date with a man who’s already seen you at your worst? Who’s seen you covered in flour and crying over burnt jam, snarling like a feral cat on no sleep, and yet he still looks at you like you hung the damn stars?
Apparently, you wear the black dress you haven’t worn since before Lila was born. It still fits. Still zips. And still makes me feel like the version of myself I used to dream I’d become.
I smooth it down. Take a breath.
Then head for the living room just as the doorbell sounds.
Owen moves first and Lila races to the door before I can even blink. There’s a beat of quiet. Then a shriek.
“OLLIE!”
She launches at him like a heat-seeking missile. Ollie scoops her into his arms and spins her with an exaggerated grunt, like she’s heavier than a featherweight child in pink leggings and glitter socks.
“There she is!” he declares dramatically. “My favourite girl not currently employed by a professional hockey team.”
“Bear won his game!” she says proudly, beaming at Jacko like he invented hockey.
“I know!” Ollie gasps. “I was there, remember? I was the handsome guy on the ice not doing any of the fighting.”
Owen snorts behind me. “You tripped during warmups.”
“It was theatrics, Jacko. Showmanship. The fans loved it.”
He winks at Lila, who dissolves into giggles. And then Owen turns to me and freezes. His eyes go wide. His mouth opens slightly. For a second, he doesn’t say anything at all. Then, softly says, “Wow.”
I roll my eyes, but my cheeks warm. “What?”
He steps closer, slow and reverent, like I might disappear. “You look…” His voice goes husky. “You look unbelievable.”
Ollie makes a gagging noise. “Okay, Romeo. We get it. She’s hot. Go before I start narrating this like a David Attenborough special.”
Owen doesn’t even blink. Just offers me his arm like we’re heading into a ballroom. My fingers curl around his bicep automatically. He’s warm and solid. Familiar and electric.
