Chapter 9
Oliver
I stare at my reflection in the mirror above the foyer credenza, straightening the cuffs of my shirt for what feels like the thousandth time.
My palms feel clammy. I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous—maybe the night I first took over as owner of the Alpha Ridge Creek Desperadoes, stepping into a press conference with all eyes on me.
But this is different. This is far more personal. This is my daughter.
And the woman I love.
I glance across the room to where Lacey is arranging dinner plates on the table.
She’s wearing a soft lilac dress that hugs her figure modestly but in a way that makes my heart speed up just looking at her.
Her hair is down, cascading in gentle waves over her shoulders.
Every time I see her these days, my chest tightens with a surge of affection and longing.
She’s everything I never knew I needed—funny, intelligent, passionate.
And yes, she’s my daughter’s best friend.
I swallow hard, adjusting the collar of my shirt again.
Tonight could change everything. Lacey and I discussed how best to tell Fiona.
We decided on a private dinner here at my place—somewhere comfortable, without too many prying eyes or distractions.
It’s just us, and this truth between the three of us that has to come out.
The smell of sizzling garlic and rosemary wafts from the kitchen.
We’re making Fiona’s favorite: chicken parm with pasta, a side salad, and some crusty bread.
It’s homestyle, comforting. I hope it will help ease the tension, though I suspect nothing can truly soften the blow of what Fiona’s about to hear.
Lacey catches me watching her and offers a small, tremulous smile. “How many times are you going to check your shirt, Oliver?” she asks gently, trying for a bit of humor. But her eyes flicker with nerves.
I cross the room, take her hand, and press a light kiss to her knuckles. “I’m sorry. I’m just on edge. You doing okay?”
She exhales shakily. “I’m terrified. Fiona is my best friend. I don’t even know if she’ll speak to me after tonight.” Tears pool in her eyes, but she blinks them back.
I tighten my hold on her hand. “I know. It’s going to be hard. But we’ve agreed that honesty is the only way forward.” I pause, brushing a thumb across her cheek. “I love you. We’ll figure this out together.”
She nods, pressing her lips together in a feeble attempt at a smile. “I love you, too.”
The doorbell rings, and we both tense. That’s Fiona, right on time. My heart lurches into a gallop. I give Lacey’s hand one last squeeze, then step away to answer the door.
When I open it, Fiona is standing there with a bright smile that fades the instant she sees the tension written all over my face. She’s dressed casually in jeans and a Desperadoes hoodie, her hair pulled back in a messy bun. She’s got a bottle of wine in one hand.
“Hey, Dad,” she greets, though her voice holds a hint of question. “What’s going on? You look like you’re going to a funeral.”
I force what I hope is a reassuring smile and step aside. “Hey, Fi. Come in.”
She steps into the entryway, and I close the door softly behind her.
Her eyes flick around. “This place seems… quiet.” She turns and spots Lacey standing by the table in the dining room, wearing that soft purple dress.
Immediately, Fiona’s face lights up. “What are you doing here? Wait—” Her brow furrows.
“What’s with all the… I don’t know, formality? Are we celebrating something?”
Lacey offers a small wave, her smile tight. “Hey, Fi.”
Fiona’s gaze darts between us. “Okay, you two are acting weird. Is this an intervention or something? Because if it is, I have no clue what I’m being intervened for.”
I gesture toward the dining room. “Let’s sit. Dinner’s ready.”
She arches an eyebrow, then shrugs. “Sure, I guess.” She leads the way, placing her wine bottle on the table with a little thud. “I brought a Pinot. Thought it’d be nice to have something good for dinner.”
Lacey murmurs, “Thank you,” her fingers trembling slightly as she reaches for the corkscrew.
I swallow hard and help Fiona take a seat. The table is neatly set, the ambiance warm—flickering candles in the center, soft lighting overhead. I can see Fiona taking it all in, her curiosity mounting. She hasn’t missed the tightness in the air.
We settle around the table. Lacey and I exchange a glance. I’ve never felt so on display in my own home. My daughter eyes me warily. “Dad, are you okay? Did something happen with the team? Is it about Stellan’s contract or—”
“No,” I say quickly. “This isn’t about the Desperadoes. It’s… personal.”
Her gaze flicks over to Lacey. “Are you pregnant?” she blurts, and the question is so out of left field that Lacey lets out a startled laugh, which cuts off quickly.
“No, no,” Lacey says, shaking her head, though her cheeks flush red. She sets down the corkscrew, the wine bottle still unopened. “Fi, it’s nothing like that.”
Fiona exhales, rolling her eyes. “Okay, can someone just tell me what’s going on? I’m starting to get freaked out here.”
My chest tightens. I can’t avoid this any longer. I reach over and place my hand on Lacey’s. It’s a small gesture, but it speaks volumes—and Fiona notices immediately. Her expression shifts from confusion to dawning horror.
“Dad?” Her voice is faint. “Why are you… touching Lacey like that?”
I tighten my grip on Lacey’s hand, offering her silent strength. “Fiona,” I begin, my throat constricting. “We need to talk to you about something important. Lacey and I… we’ve gotten close. Closer than either of us expected.”
Fiona’s mouth forms a thin line. “Close how?” she demands, her tone sharp. “You mean—no. That’s impossible.”
Lacey’s eyes brim with tears. “Fiona, I’m sorry. I never meant for this to happen. You’re my best friend, and I love you. I just… I love your dad, too.”
Fiona bolts upright, knocking her chair back so it screeches against the floor. “What the hell, Lacey?” She turns a furious glare on me. “Dad, are you serious? You’re sleeping with my best friend?”
I flinch at her harsh words, at the pain etched across her features. “It’s not just that,” I say softly. “It’s more. It’s real. I know how hard it must be to hear this—”
“Hard?” she repeats, voice shaking with anger. “Are you kidding me right now? Lacey, you—how could you do this? We’ve been best friends since we were young. This is…” She presses a hand to her forehead, looking stunned. “I feel sick.”
Tears spill down Lacey’s cheeks, and she stands as well, shaky. “I know. Fi, I’m so sorry. I’ve been dreading this moment because I never wanted to hurt you. But I love him. I’ve tried to push those feelings away for months now. It’s not something we planned.”
Fiona’s hands tremble at her sides. “I can’t believe this. How long has this been going on?” She whirls on me. “What did you do? How did this even start?”
My voice goes rough. “It started… it started as just conversations. We realized we clicked in ways we never expected. And then, after a game one night—”
“I don’t need details,” she snaps, tears shining in her eyes. “This is so messed up. My father… and my best friend.”
My stomach twists painfully. I’ve never seen Fiona look so betrayed. “Fiona,” I plead, “I understand this is a lot to take in. But Lacey and I—this isn’t a fling. It’s not some casual thing. We’re in love.”
Her laugh is raw and humorless. “In love. Right. So what am I supposed to do? Smile and be happy that my best friend is dating my dad?”
Lacey steps forward, tears streaming down her face, her voice trembling.
“Fiona, I’m begging you to understand. If I could’ve chosen to fall in love with anyone else, I would have, just to spare you this.
But it happened, and we can’t take it back.
I don’t want to. I love him—more than I’ve ever loved anyone. ”
Fiona’s gaze is torn between heartbreak and fury. “You’re supposed to be my best friend, Lacey,” she chokes out, wiping angrily at her eyes. “Do you have any idea what this feels like?”
Lacey’s shoulders quake with silent sobs. “I know it feels like I betrayed you, and I hate it. But I— I—” She can’t finish. Her throat closes around the words, and she drops her face into her hands.
I step in, placing a hand on Lacey’s back. She leans into me, seeking comfort. Fiona’s eyes lock on us, and for a second, a flicker of pure anguish burns there. I’ve seen her upset before, but this is different. This is betrayal on a level I never intended.
“Fi,” I say gently, “I would never hurt you on purpose. You’re my daughter—my world. But you’re grown now, with your own life, and I… I’ve been lonely for a long time. I didn’t expect to find someone who understands me the way Lacey does. I care about her deeply. I’m in love with her.”
“Stop saying that,” Fiona whispers, tears finally streaming down her cheeks. “You can’t be in love with Lacey. She’s basically part of the family already. This is too weird.”
I let out a ragged breath. “I know. It is weird. It’s unconventional. But it doesn’t change the fact that it’s real.”
Fiona looks between us, lip trembling. “Real,” she echoes, voice dripping with disbelief. She sniffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re both just throwing it in my face now.”
Lacey stands straighter, wiping her cheeks.
“Fiona, we wanted to tell you privately, in person, before rumors spread or you heard it from anyone else. I promise, we haven’t been flaunting this.
We’ve kept it quiet. That’s why we’ve been acting so strange.
I… I couldn’t bear to look you in the eye without telling you the truth. ”
The wine bottle remains unopened on the table, the chicken and pasta growing cold. The candles flicker, casting shadows on Fiona’s anguished face. She lets out a shaky exhale, looking away from both of us. “I can’t pretend to be okay with this right now. I feel so betrayed.”