Thea Mitchell, your best friend since freshman year, squints across the room.

She sips her wine.

Thea hasn't changed. Still loud. Still sarcastic. Still incapable of keeping her opinions to herself. She's also one of the few people who knows everything. Including the fact that your ten-year-old daughter's father is a famous hockey player. Minor complication.

She pauses.

Thea shakes her head.

Her gaze wanders towards a display of senior-year photographs. Then she stops.

She points towards a photograph. Eighteen-year-old Cole Harrison. Dark hair. Blue eyes. That ridiculous smile. A black suit, crooked tie, one arm around your waist. You're beside him, smiling at the camera.

She studies the photograph.

Then she looks at you.

Because Thea remembers. The breakup. The pregnancy. Margaret Harrison. The nights you cried while Cole's hockey career took off. She was there for everything. And she's never forgiven Margaret.

Of course. Cole Harrison. Twenty-eight. NHL superstar. Stanley Cup winner. Your first love. Your daughter's father.

She sighs.

Then the noise near the doors changes. Laughter. Excited greetings. Someone calling a familiar name.

You follow her gaze. Across the room stands a tall man in a dark button-down shirt. Broad shoulders. Messy dark hair. That familiar crooked smile. Older. More muscular. And unmistakably him.