One Dinner
1219 Words
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur.
Ava buried herself in work.
Player statistics.
Practice observations.
Quotes from Coach Daniels.
Anything to keep her mind off the conversation she’d had with Liam.
I hated every interview where someone asked if I was single.
Why would he say that?
What was she supposed to do with that information?
Five years too late.
⸻
Her phone buzzed.
Rachel
Need a feature piece by tomorrow morning.
Not just hockey.
I want the man behind the captain.
Ava stared at the message.
Easy.
Except the man behind the captain happened to be the one person who refused to let anyone behind his walls.
Especially her.
⸻
That evening, the team had no scheduled activities.
Players scattered throughout the hotel.
Some went to the gym.
Others disappeared into the city.
Ava sat alone in the suite’s living room, laptop balanced on her knees.
Across the room, Liam stepped out of his bedroom.
He’d traded his tailored suits for gray sweatpants and a fitted black T-shirt.
Comfortable.
Relaxed.
Dangerously attractive.
She kept typing.
Or at least pretended to.
Liam opened the refrigerator.
He frowned.
“It’s empty.”
“It’s a hotel.”
“They usually stock something.”
“They do.”
She pointed toward the minibar.
“You’ll have to sell a kidney to afford those peanuts.”
A quiet laugh escaped him.
She looked up.
He was actually smiling.
“I forgot how dramatic you are.”
“I prefer financially responsible.”
He grabbed his wallet.
“I’m going downstairs.”
She nodded.
“Okay.”
He stopped at the door.
“You eaten?”
She blinked.
“No.”
“What were you planning?”
“Room service.”
He made a face.
“You still hate eating alone.”
Her fingers froze over the keyboard.
Of course he remembered.
“I’m used to it now.”
Something shifted in his expression.
A flicker of guilt.
Then—
“Come with me.”
She stared.
“What?”
“Dinner.”
“No.”
“It’s just dinner.”
“It never was.”
Silence.
Neither of them looked away.
Finally, Liam sighed.
“You’re right.”
He reached for the doorknob.
“I’ll bring something back.”
The door closed behind him.
Ava released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
Good.
Distance.
That’s what they needed.
⸻
Forty-five minutes later…
The suite door opened again.
Liam walked in carrying two paper bags.
The smell hit her immediately.
Burgers.
Fries.
Milkshakes.
She frowned.
“You bought two.”
“I know.”
“I said no.”
“I know.”
“You ignored me.”
“I know.”
He placed one bag in front of her.
She looked inside.
Cheeseburger.
No onions.
Extra pickles.
Sweet potato fries.
Chocolate milkshake.
Exactly how she’d ordered it.
Every single time.
Five years ago.
Her throat tightened.
“You remembered.”
“I remember a lot of things.”
The words hung heavily between them.
She looked at the food.
Then at him.
Finally…
She opened the bag.
“I’ll pay you back.”
He snorted.
“There she is.”
“What?”
“The stubborn woman I remember.”
She smiled despite herself.
“I was always stubborn.”
“You absolutely were.”
“You loved it.”
“I still…”
He stopped himself.
The room went quiet.
Too quiet.
Ava looked down at her fries.
He almost said it.
I still do.
But he hadn’t.
⸻
They ate in silence for several minutes.
Almost frighteningly normal.
“So…”
Liam took a sip of his drink.
“How’s your mom?”
Ava looked up.
The question caught her off guard.
“She’s good.”
“Still gardening?”
She smiled.
“Every day.”
“I’m glad.”
“And your dad?”
The smile disappeared from Liam’s face.
“He passed away.”
Her heart dropped.
“What?”
“Two years ago.”
“Oh my God…”
She set her burger down.
“Liam, I’m so sorry.”
He nodded once.
“Heart attack.”
“When?”
“During training camp.”
She remembered his father.
Always loud.
Always cheering.
Always calling Ava his future daughter-in-law.
The thought made her chest ache.
“Why didn’t I know?”
His eyes met hers.
“We weren’t exactly talking.”
No.
They weren’t.
“I would’ve come.”
“I know.”
Those three words somehow hurt more than anything else.
⸻
A comfortable silence settled between them again.
Until—
“So…”
Liam leaned back.
“Did anyone ever make you happier than I did?”
She looked up sharply.
“What?”
“I asked a question.”
“You don’t get to ask that.”
“Why not?”
“Because you lost that right.”
His jaw tightened.
“I suppose I did.”
She should’ve let it go.
Instead…
“No.”
The word slipped out before she could stop it.
His eyes lifted.
She immediately regretted answering.
“I dated.”
She looked away.
“It never worked.”
He remained silent.
“So…”
she asked quietly,
“Did anyone make you forget me?”
His laugh was short.
Bitter.
“No.”
The confession settled between them.
Raw.
Honest.
Painfully overdue.
Neither knew what to say next.
The truth was finally sitting on the table between two half-eaten burgers.
Neither of them had moved on.
Neither of them had stopped loving the other.
They had simply become experts at pretending.
A loud knock at the suite door shattered the moment.
Liam stood.
“I’ll get it.”
He opened the door.
A beautiful brunette in an elegant dress smiled brightly.
“Liam.”
She leaned forward and kissed his cheek.
“I was wondering if you’d like to join us downstairs.”
Ava looked away immediately.
Of course.
He had women throwing themselves at him.
Why wouldn’t he?
The brunette finally noticed Ava sitting at the dining table.
“Oh.”
She smiled politely.
“I didn’t realize you had company.”
Liam didn’t return her smile.
“I’m busy.”
The woman looked surprised.
“It’s just drinks.”
“I’m busy.”
She glanced between them one last time before nodding awkwardly.
“Another time.”
“Maybe.”
He closed the door.
Silence returned.
Ava forced herself to take another bite of her burger.
“You didn’t have to turn her down because of me.”
“I didn’t.”
He sat back down.
“I turned her down because I wasn’t interested.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I don’t care if you believe me.”
He met her gaze.
“I’ve never taken another woman to places that mattered.”
Her heartbeat quickened.
“What places?”
He looked around the suite.
Then back at her.
“Dinner.”
She forgot how to breathe.
Because she knew exactly what he meant.
To everyone else…
It had just been burgers in a hotel room.
To Liam…
It had been dinner with the woman he’d never stopped loving.
And that realization scared her far more than sharing a suite ever could.
- Writer
