Chapter Twenty-Three
Finish the Job
Ariana
Present
“Okay, charcuterie and antipasto are out and ready,” I murmured to myself, ticking items off on my fingers as I paced around the kitchen.
“Chicken Marsala is prepped to go in the oven… which is preheated… orzo and broccolini ready to go in right after… tiramisu chilling in the fridge… wine decanted…”
I exhaled, a nervous, excited laugh slipping out.
It was a Friday night in mid-November, one of those rare Florida evenings where the air felt cool enough to pretend it was fall. The windows were cracked, letting in a breeze that carried the faint scent of orange blossoms and saltwater. And I was hosting my first real dinner since our move.
Nathan had sprung it on me last minute, giving me only a few days’ notice, but I didn’t mind.
I loved hosting. I loved the ritual of it: crafting a menu, setting a table, choosing a playlist that felt effortless but intentional.
I loved the glow of the candles, the clink of glassware, the hum of conversation that wrapped around a room like a warm blanket.
And tonight, I’d get to be a part of it too — not just the woman behind the curtain pulling strings, but someone at the table.
It was an executive dinner for twelve: Nathan and me, obviously, Nathan’s assistant and associate general managers, his senior advisor, the director of amateur scouting, the director of player development, and five members of the coaching staff — our three assistant coaches, the goaltending coach, and the head coach.
Shane.
I should have slapped my own hand for the way my stomach fluttered at the thought of him being here tonight, for how my cheeks warmed and my smile spread like butter melting on a hot roll.
Things between us had settled into something resembling peace ever since I crashed his video review at the arena last week.
Our apologies that burned as much as they soothed had paved a new road for us, or so it seemed, and we were both committed to leaving the past in the past.
It felt like smoothing out a wrinkled page to start writing again, a new chapter ahead of us.
This time, as friends.
And God, was I excited to have a friend.
That was perhaps my favorite part of the move to Tampa — how Maven and Grace and the rest of the girls had wrapped around me with effortless warmth.
And now, somehow, I had a fresh start with a man who knew me in a way no one else here did.
It was a strange kind of comfort, that familiarity.
Like finding an old sweater or hearing a song you used to play on repeat but haven’t heard in decades.
So yes, my nerves were kicking around over the timing of the dinner courses, and the pressure of wanting everything to be perfect buzzed under my skin. But mostly? I was excited.
I had new people to talk to tonight. A new friendship to rebuild. A chance to do something I genuinely loved.
Perhaps what had me buzzing most was that Nathan had promised I’d get a moment to talk about Sweet Dreams.
My smile widened just thinking about how I’d have the chance to tell the executives about the Skate for Change event next week, about the Christmas gala, about everything else we had planned.
As much as I loved hosting, I loved nonprofit work more.
I missed being in the social-work sector with an ache deep enough to carve a canyon out of.
But Sweet Dreams had lit that part of me up again.
I had purpose. I had an organization I believed in to throw myself into.
I was flush with new ideas and creativity.
Tonight, I’d get to share that with important people — people who could help.
The thought had me giddy as I straightened a candlestick on the dining table, smoothing the linen runner with proud hands.
I was preening.
I took a moment to sneak around the corner and check my appearance in the hallway mirror.
The deep green dress skimmed my curves without clinging, elegant but understated, the kind Nathan preferred for nights like this.
My hair was swept up, loose tendrils softening the look, my makeup carefully done — enough to feel polished, not so much that it would invite commentary.
I adjusted the delicate gold bracelet on my wrist, letting it settle just right before lowering my arm. Then I made my way back into the dining room to double-check everything was in its place.
“Oh, sweetheart. You’ve outdone yourself.”
Nathan swept into the dining room still fastening his cuff links, eyes taking in the warm, sparkling scene I’d set.
A deep red table runner with stunning floral design stretched over a cream tablecloth, each place at the table framed neatly with a gold charger and delicate china plates.
Wine glasses and candles were perfectly placed, soft piano jazz flowing in from our speakers above, the scent of dinner enough to make any mouth water.
“I’ve set the antipasto out on the bar,” I said, folding my hands together as I looked at the same scene with pride. “I made sure we have that tequila you said Jared likes best. I still think wine would pair better with the meal, but…”
Nathan slid his arm around my waist and pulled me in, kissing my hair. “He will appreciate the thoughtfulness, and so do I.”
His eyes dipped briefly, taking in my dress, my hair.
“You actually made an effort tonight,” he added lightly. “I like this look on you.”
I held my smile despite how the compliment felt sour, my hands finding his chest as I looked up at him.
For a moment, a deep sadness came over me. I longed for the days when I used to touch this man and feel desire, for when I would look into his eyes and feel nothing but comfort and safety. But I didn’t let myself linger in those thoughts. “Thank you for letting me be a part of tonight.”
His face screwed up a bit at that, like I was being silly. “Well, we needed a dinner, didn’t we?”
Nathan laughed, and my stomach sank.
I ignored it.
Tonight was going to be great. He was just teasing.
“You know what I mean,” I said, swatting at his chest playfully. “I wish you knew how excited I’ve been all day knowing I get to talk about Sweet Dreams this evening.”
Nathan patted my hand, surveying the space once more like he was checking to make sure all was in order. “I’m sure you are, honey.”
The doorbell rang, and I smiled wide, bouncing a little as I let out a giggle. “First guest is here!”
“Okay, okay, calm down,” Nathan said with a laugh.
I was ready to skip to the door, my heart beaming. “Hang on one second. I just want to check the—oh!”
I giggled as I ran into one of the chairs, knocking the table and making the glassware shake, the candles flickering.
“Easy,” Nathan said, smiling though his eyes were wide now, his hands up. “Let’s take a breath.”
“Sorry,” I said, covering my smile with a hand. “Okay, I want to greet them at the door with you. I just need to quickly—ouch!”
It happened so fast, I barely registered it.
One second I was on my way to the kitchen to triple-check my prep list, and the next, my wrist was snagged in a vise grip and halted back over my head, the force so sharp it whipped me around.
Nathan had his fingers wrapped tight around me.
A burning ache seared from the point of contact all the way to my elbow, and when I tried to pull free, it only made the pain worse. I cried out.
“Nathan—”
“I mean it, Ariana, calm. Down.” He seethed the words, holding my wrist tight as he yanked me close enough to whisper his next threat.
“You’re hurting me,” I whispered, like I was afraid to say it out loud, like if I only said it quietly, it wouldn’t be true. My brain was already arguing with me. You’re fine. It’s not that bad. You’re being dramatic.
“This is an important dinner, and I need you to play your role of doting wife. Okay? I’ve got important deals to discuss tonight, and I don’t need you tripping over yourself and causing a commotion.
The table looks great. You’re beautiful.
The food smells lovely. Now, finish the job and quiet down. ”
I stared at him slack-jawed, blinking rapidly like I was sure I’d misheard him. But he held fast to my wrist and lifted a brow until I nodded my understanding.
And I felt it.
My soul faded like a candle flame burning down to the bottom of a wick, the remaining wax snuffing it out silently, and with just a small wisp of smoke. My mind was retreating inside me, burying itself deep, leaving my body to bear the brunt of what was happening so it could protect itself.
“Good,” he said, releasing me with a flourish.
He smoothed his hands over his suit and adjusted his cuffs.
“Now, I will go greet our guest. You check whatever you need to check. And when I see you again, I expect tranquility. Yes?” He shook his head.
“This isn’t some chaotic family dinner, it’s a business meeting.
Speaking of family, let’s do our best not to bring up yours.
The last thing I need is to have to explain a dead mother, a deadbeat stepdad, and a brother you raised like some sort of single mom before I met you. ”
He didn’t wait for me to respond. With practiced ease, he slid a politician’s smile into place and skated toward the foyer. I heard the door open a few moments later, followed by a loud, booming welcome and laughter.
I was still rooted to the spot, my wrist aching, heart pounding in my ears.
All the excitement drained out of me in an instant, my hopes and dreams for the night swirling into an endless black hole in my heart.
Somehow, I managed to move, to put one foot in front of the other until I was in the kitchen.
There was nothing to check. Everything was perfect.
But I stayed in there as long as I could before it could be considered impolite.
Now, it was me with the practiced smile in place, gliding into the foyer to join my husband and greet our guests one by one. I stood at his side. I laughed when it was appropriate. I thanked each person who complimented my home, or the appetizer spread, or the wine.
I played my part.
Right up to when Shane walked through the door and saw through the act.