Page 93 of Playing for Keeps

“They do,” Denise said warmly. “And speaking of wonderful things, Emma, the book is full of them. It’s fantastic. I can’t believe you already finished.”

Relief washed over me. I hadn’t even noticed how tense I was until now. I grinned, realising just how much I needed to hear those words.

“Me neither. I usually get stuck halfway through, fussing over details and rewriting scenes. But this time, once I knew the ending, the rest of the story just flowed. And being here in Toronto has helped. The city has that perfect mix: vibrant and busy but with enough quiet, almost small-town corners. I needed that balance to weave into the book.”

Denise nodded as if she understood exactly what I meant. “And that ending!” She shook her head, almost accusing. “When you first told me about it, I thought you would change your mind. But you kept it. Emma, it’s heart-wrenching. You build this beautiful love story, and then you decide to let her leave. What are you doing to your readers?” She softened. “But it works. It really does.”

I smiled, a little embarrassed but certain. “I was thinking of calling it Shifts of Ice.”

Denise’s eyes lit up. “Perfect. It hits the theme right on the head. I love it.” She leaned forward, ready to get down to business. “Okay, let’s dig in. There are a couple of passages I want to talk through. Some of the minor characters – I think a few of them deserve a clearer voice. Let’s start on page sixty…”

I flipped through my copy until I found it, and just like that, the mood in the room changed. The small talk stopped, and the focus that always came when we worked together took its place. Denise had that sharp, thoughtful look that editors get when they’re in the zone. She could see right through every lazy sentence. Her pencil tapped the edges of the page, my tea cooled next to me, and we lost track of time somewhere between her notes and my scribbles.

After my meeting with Denise, I stopped by my office to pick up the inevitable pile of papers that were waiting for me. I had just shoved them into my bag and was about to head out when I nearly collided with Simon in the corridor.

“Whoa,” he said, steadying his coffee as if it were the crown jewels. “Where have you been hiding?”

“Not hiding,” I said, smiling. “Just got back from Denise. The book’s almost done; there are only a few tweaks left here and there.”

His face lit up right away. “Emma, that’s incredible. Congratulations.” Then, with a mischievous tilt of his head, he added, “You’re not gonna break my heart again, are you? Please tell me this one doesn’t end in tears.”

“You know I don’t talk about my books before they come out. You’ll have to read it to find out.”

He groaned. “Oh no. That’s a yes. I’ll keep a box of tissues close by, then.”

I was about to say more when I glanced at my watch and cursed under my breath. “I’ve got to run. They’re coming to fix the heating at my place today.”

We were about to part ways when Simon stopped short. “Oh, I almost forgot. The whole reason I was looking for you. My friend’s having a birthday party on Friday night. You should come. Bring that D-man with you.”

“Max has got a game on Friday. But I’d love to come. Text me the details, will you?”

“You got it. See you, Emma.”

“See you.”

I slung my bag over my shoulder as Simon headed down the hall, already waving at someone else. When I stepped outside, the air was crisp and cool, the kind that wakes you up a little. The book was nearly done – one final round of editing, maybe two – but the thought of finishing didn’t feel as light as it should have. Because after that, I would have to decide whether I was staying in Toronto or not. For weeks, the question had been lingering in the back of my mind, waiting for me to take a moment to think about it.

Somehow, I still wasn’t ready.

45

MAX

Grace’s house had that quiet, lived-in kind of warmth that made you feel at home right away: a basket of kids’ shoes by the door, a couple of tiny jackets hanging on the hooks, and a Lego creation left on the kitchen table. The light that came through the windows had that May softness that made everything seem easier than it really was.

I had chosen this place on purpose. Neutral ground. Somewhere I could look around and remember good meals, kids’ birthdays, and laughter at the table. I needed that kind of backdrop for the difficult conversation I was about to have with my mother.

Grace was out running errands, and Aidan had taken Lucas and Lucy to soccer practice. We had planned for everyone to be out, which left me and my mother alone with two cups of coffee and an uncomfortable silence.

She stood by the counter with a mug in her hands and watched the steam rise from the coffee. I leaned against the other counter. There was too much quiet between us.

“How are you?” she asked at last.

I could have just said I was fine, busy, or the usual, but that’s not what I wanted. “I feel better,” I said. “Working on it.”

She nodded, and her eyes moved around the kitchen as if she were looking for a safe spot to land. “Grace told me you were thinking about settling down.” She spoke carefully, as if she wasn’t sure if she could say it. “I’m glad to hear that.”

Her fingers tightened on the mug. “I lost my family,” she said in a low voice. “I’d like to be a part of yours one day, if you’ll let me. I know you’ll be better at it than I was. You only saw what it shouldn’t be like, but you won’t let that happen.”