Chapter Twenty-Five
No Pressure
Ariana
Present
The arena was alive with joy.
The Skate for Change event was in full swing — skates scraping, kids screaming, whistles blowing, holiday music echoing off the metal rafters. It was loud and messy and too cold for anyone sane to call it cozy, but everything in me melted, anyway.
This was what I lived for.
All the days planning, the nights of long, hard work, the behind-the-scenes emails and phone calls and schedule management to make it all happen — it all led to this.
There was nothing like seeing your vision come to life even better than you imagined, to look around at a literal arena full of smiles and know you made it happen.
“Okay, check-in tables are stocked, raffle tickets ready, donation boxes out,” I murmured, ticking through my mental list as I weaved between clusters of people in the lobby.
Sweet Dreams banners hung from the railings, the logo bright and hopeful.
Volunteers in matching t-shirts stood at folding tables, greeting families with smiles and Sharpies in hand.
A little girl in a knit hat beamed as she slid a paper wristband up her arm. “Do I really get to skate with the players?” she asked her mom.
“Sure do,” I interjected, winking at the mom when she smiled at me. “They’re all out there waiting.”
She squealed and tugged her mom toward the rental skates.
My wrist throbbed as I reached to straighten a banner stand. The ache pulsed under my bracelets, where the faint shadow of a bruise hid against my skin. I flexed my fingers, wincing, and told myself the same story I’d been repeating for days.
It was the chicken pan. The box of brochures. The lifting.
Not… anything else.
That dinner party felt like a lifetime ago now, the days blurred by event prep and a showering of love from my husband.
Nathan had been so over-the-top helpful the last week that it made my head spin.
He’d planted sweet kisses on my cheek in the morning, sent texts every afternoon: How’s planning going, sweetheart? So proud of you.
He’d hired a housekeeper and a chef, telling me it would help me lean all my focus into Sweet Dreams. He’d bought the gorgeous dress I wore now, a deep, brick-red and velvet-laced number that cinched my waist and flowed like magic down to my heels.
He’d come home every night all week, spending quality time with me — watching movies, making ice cream sundaes, telling me how excited he was to see what I did with the event.
This morning, there were flowers on the counter with a note: Tonight’s going to be a home run. I’m lucky to have you.
If my life were a theme park ride, then I’d just been whipped backward and through a loop. My head was spinning and aching trying to make sense of it all.
But I didn’t think of any of that tonight. All my focus was on Skate for Change.
“Look at this place,” Maven said, suddenly at my side with her hands coming up to frame my arms. She looked around with pure wonder in her eyes. “This is insane.”
Grace appeared on my other side like she teleported, linking her arm with mine. “I feel like I’m at some Hallmark movie event, but, like, one that doesn’t suck.”
I laughed, the sound coming easier than it had in days. “That’s the goal. Cheesy but effective.”
“Have you seen the donation numbers?” Grace asked, nodding toward the big clear box by the doors.
Crumpled bills and folded checks were stacked inside, and there was a QR code for people to scan if they didn’t have cash.
“I cannot wait to see the final number on the jumbotron later. I’ve been clocking the people in attendance, and there’s some big money in here.
How the hell did you get Robert Jennings to attend? !”
Robert Jennings was the CEO of Jennings Financial — and there was a literal skyscraper named after his family’s business just two blocks away.
“That would be Nathan, actually,” I said, hating how my stomach soured a bit at the admission. It was a great thing that he’d brought in such great benefactors, but something about it ate at me. “He’s been calling in a lot of favors for tonight.”
“Bless that man,” Grace said.
“And the players are having a blast,” Maven added. “Vince is already out there trying to impress toddlers with his toe-drags. You did this, Ari.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. “We did this,” I corrected. “You two, PR, the shelter, the team—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you’re a team player,” Grace cut in, rolling her eyes fondly. “But seriously. This is all you. You look happy, and you should be. This is your baby, and these are its first steps. Soak it in, darling.”
The words landed in a place that hadn’t felt anything in a while.
For a heartbeat, I let myself feel it — the buzz of the crowd, the laughter, the smell of popcorn and ice and cheap hot chocolate. Kids who never got anything special were getting a night on the ice. Sweet Dreams was getting money for beds.
I was happy.
And still… there was a hollow space in my chest where the dinner night still sat like a stone, cold and heavy.
I must have been absentmindedly rubbing my wrist again because Grace softened, nodding toward the reflex. “You okay?”
I startled, smiling big and immediately folding my hands behind my back. “Oh, fine. Think I may have tweaked something lifting boxes of t-shirts earlier.”
“Easy to do,” Maven said. “Let the volunteers do the heavy lifting later, okay? Ah,” she added, nodding behind me. “I think our time of kissing your feet is over, at least for now. Your leading man just arrived.”
I followed her gaze.
Nathan strutted in like the arena belonged to him, and I suppose it might as well have.
His suit was perfect, hair perfect, that signature GM smile turned up just enough to charm but not enough to look like he was trying.
A few fans called his name as he passed, and he paused for a quick photo like it wasn’t a bother at all, all polish and ease.
When his eyes found mine, they softened.
“There’s my girl,” he said as he reached me, arm sliding around my waist and pulling me in. He kissed my temple like he used to when we first started dating. “You are incredible. This place is buzzing.”
The warmth of his praise collided with the memory of his grip, confusing everything inside me.
“Thanks,” I managed. “We’re nearly at our goal for the night, and we’re not even to the scrimmage yet.”
He beamed, like a proud husband who’d never done anything worse than leave socks on the floor. “That’s my wife,” he said, winking at Maven and Grace as he tucked me under one arm. “Tell me again how I got so lucky?”
“We’ve been asking ourselves the same since you two showed up in Tampa,” Maven teased.
Grace snorted. “She’s being nice. You married up, Black. Don’t forget it.”
Nathan laughed good-naturedly. “I know when I’m out of my league.”
He gave my waist a squeeze, not a hard one, but one that was soft and affectionate.
It was just enough pressure to make me feel crazy for having been afraid of him at all.
“Channel 8 is ready when you are,” our PR manager called from across the lobby, waving us over.
“Go shine,” Maven whispered, bumping my hip.
“Knock ’em dead,” Grace added.
Nathan steered me with him toward the camera setup, his hand warm at the small of my back. “Having fun so far?”
I let out a nervous breath as we approached the camera crew. “I am. Everything has come together perfectly.”
“It really has.” He paused, pulling me to a stop to check my hair and dress with an affectionate smile. “Have you seen Coach McCabe yet?”
His eyes stayed on my dress where he busied himself with smoothing the fabric that didn’t need to be fixed.
I swallowed. “No, not yet, actually.”
Nathan hummed, nodding. “Good. I think maybe it’s best you stay away from him.”
My heart lurched into my throat. “Oh?” I asked carefully. “Something going on?”
At that, Nathan smirked, the first bit of evil leaking through his perfect exterior in days. His eyes skirted to mine. “I don’t know, Ariana. Is there something going on?”
The pulse thrumming in my ears muted everything, and I didn’t know what to do but stare back at him and feign naivety.
“Mrs. Black?” a soft voice interrupted, and then the assistant with the news crew ushered me over to the camera. “You’re up.”
The lights were bright, the reporter poised with her mic and perfect smile. I was still trying to regain my composure after the unexpected warning from Nathan.
“We’re here at the first annual Sweet Dreams Skate for Change,” the reporter said once the camera was rolling, “and joining me now is the woman behind it all, Ariana Black.”
I swallowed my nerves and smiled into the camera. I could do this. I knew my talking points better than I knew my own reflection. With a deep breath and winning smile, I zeroed in.
I talked about bed insecurity, about kids sleeping on couches or floors or in cars. I talked about how a good night’s sleep changes everything. I talked about Sweet Dreams and the shelter and the team’s support. The reporter nodded in all the right places, eyes bright.
“And it looks like the organization has really wrapped around this effort,” she said. “GM Nathan Black is here tonight as well—”
“Let’s get him in!” the PR manager chimed in, already waving Nathan forward.
My husband slipped into frame beside me, arm curling around my shoulders, pulling me closer.
“Yes, please,” the reporter said, delighted. “Nathan, how proud are you of your wife right now?”
“Ridiculously,” he answered without hesitation, looking at me like I’d hung the moon.
“She has poured her heart into this. She’s always been passionate about community work, and to see her build Sweet Dreams here in Tampa, to see the impact it’s already having on these kids…
I mean, look at her.” He turned back to the camera.
“She’s the brains and the heart behind tonight.
I just sign the checks and try to keep up. ”