Chapter 10
MILA
Mila sinks deeper into the corner of Natalie and Jake’s oversized sectional, cradling her second—okay, third—glass of red wine. Her heels are somewhere by the front door, her blouse is wrinkled, and her head is pounding, not from the wine, but from Richard.
Richard, with his smug smile and his habit of pretending her voice doesn’t exist until he echoes it ten minutes later and passes an idea off as his own idea.
Richard, who’d spent the entire follow-up meeting with Jim Pearce nodding condescendingly whenever Mila spoke, only to interrupt her mid-sentence and redirect the conversation like she was some glorified intern instead of the strategist who built the campaign.
And Jim, kind and well-meaning as he is, hadn’t noticed. Or worse, had politely pretended not to.
Her stomach churns just thinking about it.
Still, the pitch had landed. The presentation she’d been obsessing over for the past week had hit home—especially with the sales team.
They’d lit up when she spoke about targeting families, legacy fans, and the emotional pull of generational loyalty.
It hadn’t hurt that she and Naomi had spent the last five days cold calling every youth hockey club, middle school, and community center in Hartford to secure verbal commitments for ticket blocks.
In exchange, Mila had promised them outreach—player visits, discounted concessions, signed jerseys.
That part had been hers. Richard hadn’t touched it. Couldn’t fake it.
If the Whalers signed the contract, she knew who’d won them over.
“You look like you want to set something on fire,” Natalie says, perched across from her with a throw pillow on her lap and a half-full glass of cabernet. She’s watching Mila with that best-friend squint—the one that reads moods like tea leaves. “Let me guess. Richard’s still a dick?”
Mila lets out a bitter laugh. “He’s worse. You should’ve seen him today. He cut me off in the middle of explaining the tiered ticket packages I came up with, then pitched them like they were his. Literally used my phrasing.”
Natalie groans. “He’s the worst.”
Jake walks in from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn and drops onto the couch beside Natalie. “That bad?”
Mila sips her wine and nods. “Every time I say something, he gets this look—like, ‘Isn’t that cute?’ Then hijacks the point and wraps it in corporate buzzwords. I’m being gaslit by my ex and my senior lead all at once.”
Jake raises his eyebrows. “Want me to pay his hotel room a visit? Rough him up a bit? I’ve still got the hands for it.”
Mila offers him a faint smile. “Tempting.”
Natalie leans over and refills Mila’s glass without asking. “What you need is a distraction.”
“I need him to be body-checked into oblivion.”
“Or,” Natalie says sweetly, “you could come with me to Jesse’s Halloween party.”
Mila snorts. “Absolutely not.”
“Oh, come on,” Natalie says. “It’ll be fun. Costumes. Candy. Plus, we need to do damage control. Keep Jesse off social media.”
Jake shrugs. “Most definitely.”
Mila groans. “Nat, I’ve been in meetings and airport lounges and hotel rooms for two straight days. I’m exhausted. I look like death. I have zero energy to stand around pretending I know who half the people are in a room full of bunnies dressed like slutty pirates.”
Natalie pouts. “You wouldn’t be pretending. You’ve known Jesse forever. And Theo will be there.”
That gets a flicker of something. Mila ducks her gaze to her wineglass, hoping Natalie doesn’t notice the way her mouth tugged at the mention of Theo.
“Oh,” Natalie says slowly, corners of her mouth quirking upward, “still not sick of looking at him?”
Mila rolls her eyes. “He’s…fine.”
Natalie grins. “Fine. Okay.”
Jake tosses a popcorn kernel at her, and she bats it away. “Stop deflecting. You clearly like him.”
Mila swirls her wine. “It’s not like that.”
Jake leans back with a smirk. “Doesn’t mean it couldn’t be.”
Natalie shrugs. “He looks at you like you hung the moon.”
Mila says nothing. Her cheeks warm, just a little, and she hides behind her wine glass.
“Please come,” Natalie says, looking serious. “I want to check in on Jesse. And I already have costumes for us—you’re going to love them.”
Mila nearly snorts wine out her nose. “Please, god, no.”
She doesn’t even want to guess what literary monstrosity Natalie’s dreamed up this year.
Her best friend has a long, committed history of deeply nerdy, aggressively sexless Halloween costumes—Hermione Granger with an actual book bag, Elizabeth Bennet complete with bonnet, and, infamously, a Book Fairy, featuring glittery newsprint wings and a tutu made from shredded pages of Anna Karenina.
Mila, meanwhile, had spent three Halloweens in a row as a sexy cat. Tail. Ears. Winged eyeliner. Done.
Why mess with a classic?
“I’m serious. Jesse’s been working his ass off. And Theo—I think this is his first time hosting a party. You showing up would mean a lot to them.”
Mila is quiet.
She’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to see Theo again. To look in those sexy hazel eyes and say something bold just to see him squirm.
But he’s so careful. So damn timid.
He watches her as if she might vanish, but he never makes a move. Not really. Not the kind that says: I want you.
And that’s the thing. For all her flirting, for all the confidence she puts on like lipstick, Mila is old-fashioned at her core. She wants to be pursued. Chosen. Not asked politely. Not hesitated over. She wants a man who can’t stand the idea of not having her.
It’s part of the reason she fell for Richard, despite everything in her gut screaming not to. He came after her relentlessly. Made her feel wanted. Until he didn’t.
She swirls her wine, trying to shake the memory loose. Trying not to wonder if Theo will ever stop watching her like a daydream and finally reach for her.
“I don’t even have a costume,” she mutters.
Natalie leaps off the couch. “That,” she says triumphantly, “is not a problem.”
Jake sighs, finishing his drink. “Do I have to go?”
“Yes.”
“I coach the team. It’s weird.”
“Wear a mask.”
Jake considers this. “Done.”
Mila sets her wineglass down. Her head’s buzzing now—not drunk, but loose. Lighter.
Maybe it’s the wine. Maybe it’s the exhaustion. Or maybe it’s the idea of walking into a room and seeing him.
“All right,” she says. “I’ll go.”
Natalie claps her hands. “Yes! You’re gonna look hot.”
Jake groans. “God help us all.”