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I open the chat thread with Parker. I’ll be a bit late.

I briefly consider whether I should write more. But what? I’m popping over to Valentina’s for a quick bite? As long as I don’t know what she wants to talk about, I’ll play it safe.

Blake has his arm around Sid and is pulling him along. “This is my dream lineup. If we can save a stupid game like this one, we can do anything.” He slaps me on the shoulder. He sounds utterly relieved.

I feel the same way.

“This year, the Cup is ours!” Munns shouts, and Blake turns to him.

The team is already getting pumped up for the next game. I can’t hold back my excitement either.

Valentina’s call couldn’t have come at a worse time. But there isn’t a good time in the next three weeks. So I bite the bullet and order a ride to Greenwich.

Parker texted back “OK,” which hopefully means he’ll stay awake.

Forty-five minutes later, I’m standing in front of Valentina’s house.

Before I can ring the doorbell, she opens the door. Her cheeks are red, and there’s something almost manic in her gaze. I’ve never seen her like this before.

“Hey, are you okay?”

She stares at me, completely bewildered. “Of course. Come on in. I looked up what you can and should eat after the game. I even cooked it myself.”

“Valentina, you’re scaring me.” I follow her and take in her apartment. Everything is decorated in warm, soothing colors, yet it has a personal touch with small vases and stone sculptures. “Great decor. Did you do this yourself?”

Her gaze wanders only briefly over the walls. “Oh, yeah. Here and there. I’m in New York so rarely. But when I am here, I want to be comfortable right away.”

Countless pictures of people I don’t know line the hallway. Very different from my apartment.

She leads me into her kitchen, where there’s a couscous salad with vegetables, some soup, and chicken.

“Thanks. I’m actually starving.”

She smiles at me and slides a plate over to me.

“Aren’t you eating with me?” I ask.

She piles food onto my plate. “No. I already ate.”

I take a bite and put my fork down. “Valentina, come on, spill it. I’m worried now. Did I do something wrong?”

“Oh, no.” She immediately puts her hand on my forearm. “Absolutely not. You’re wonderful. I’m . . . ” She covers her face with one hand. “Evan, this wasn’t planned. And nothing like this has ever happened to me before.”

“Valentina . . . ”

She peeks at me through her fingers. “Here’s the thing. I have to break up with you.”

Her words sink in, but I’m not entirely sure what they mean. “Hmm. To break up, we’d have to be together. Right? I mean, I’m not exactly an expert on this stuff, but . . . ”

She laughs. “Yeah. You’re right about that. And I realize that our arrangement officially only lasts a few more weeks, until the end of your season.” She sounds helpless, almost desperate, pleading. “I can’t lie. And I’m terrified that it’ll come out. That would be a total disaster. I wanted to help you, like you helped me. Now I’m stabbing you in the back.”

“Valentina.” Now I’m the one trying to talk her out of it.

“The thing is . . . You know Sid.”

I blink. What the hell? “Yeah?” A simple, clear answer is always a good idea.

“We met after the party, remember.”