All Chapters of Across The Ice: Falling for my ex’s biggest rival: Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

I stared at the message for another second before turning my phone toward Dean. “What’s this?” I asked.He read it, confusion passing over his face before settling into something firmer. “She’s lying, Iris. There’s no meeting with her father. The whole plan depends on Harold staying completely in the dark until my father and Richard have something real to show him. Nobody has spoken to him about any of this.”“You’re sure?”“I’m positive.” He handed my phone back, his expression hardening. “I haven’t said one word to Harold Whitfield since the gala. There’s nothing in that message she could actually be referring to. She’s desperate, and she’s making things up because she can feel everything slipping away from her.”Mason, who had been close enough to overhear, leaned over to look at the screen. “That’s definitely her number. She texted me something similar about an hour ago. Told me I’d regret choosing Dean over her.”Ryan glanced over. “What did you say?”“I ignored it.”“Good choice

Iris:Dean picked me up Saturday afternoon, wearing the kind of excitement he usually tried to hide, but never quite managed. He was too restless, too pleased with himself, smiling at nothing as I climbed into the car.“You’re vibrating,” I said.“I’m excited.”“About the date?”“About everything.” He pulled away from the lot, glancing at me with a grin. “My father and Richard signed the terms yesterday. Officially. Mason starts his new position Monday. The whole thing actually worked, Iris. I keep waiting for something to go wrong, but so far, nothing has.”“That’s incredible, Dean.”“It is.” He shook his head, still looking faintly stunned. “A few months ago, this felt impossible. My father and Richard could barely be in the same room without trying to destroy each other. Yesterday, they shook hands like actual business partners. I never thought I’d see that.”He took me to a quiet restaurant by the water, and most of dinner passed with Dean talking more than usual. He told me about

Dean found me exactly where I had told him I would be, my car’s hazard lights flashing against the darkening road. Within minutes, he had me settled in the passenger seat of his car, while my own vehicle was left in the capable hands of a tow truck he had arranged before I had even finished explaining what happened. “You didn’t have to do all that,” I said as I fastened my seat belt. “I wanted to.” He glanced over at me, his expression calm but unmistakably pleased with himself. “Besides, I have somewhere to take you first. Don’t argue.” “I’m exhausted, Dean.” “You’re about to be exhausted and fed. There’s a difference.” He drove us to a small restaurant on a quiet street, its windows glowing warmly against the evening. Inside, the place was busy but not loud, filled with low conversation and the clink of silverware. Once we were settled in a corner booth, Dean reached into his bag and pulled out a small cake box. I stared at it. “Dean.” “I know it’s small.” He opened the box,

A year ago, I did everything I could to keep my life from falling apart without making the people I loved suffer. Now I had a career I was proud of, friends who were building lives of their own, and a boyfriend who had somehow made room for hockey and art in a world that had spent years insisting he had to choose.Every now and then, the distance between then and now still surprised me.The biggest change was Dean’s Hockey and Art Academy, which had opened that spring. I loved stopping by after work, especially on afternoons when the younger kids moved between the ice and the art rooms with helmets tucked under their arms and paint on their fingers. Dean had hired coaches to handle most of the hockey instruction, but he still taught painting whenever he could.I had watched him sit beside a child struggling with a drawing and patiently show them how to try again. He never made mistakes seem like proof that someone did not belong. He treated them as part of learning, something Dean him

Wedding planning turned into its own special kind of chaos, complete with color palettes, venue tours, flower arrangements, and a guest list that seemed to grow every time Dean remembered someone else who absolutely had to be there. One evening, he spread invitation samples across the kitchen table while I compared flower arrangements on my laptop, his expression suddenly more serious than the occasion seemed to require.“We need to talk about something.”“That sounds ominous.”“Mason.” He said the name carefully, watching my face. “I want to invite him. I know that might be complicated for you, considering everything, and I wanted to ask instead of assuming.”I closed the laptop and let myself think before answering. Mason had earned his way back into Dean’s life, and, if I was being honest, into mine too. He had helped bring our families together. He had stood up for me when Sophie slapped me. The man he was now wasn’t the same man he had been before, even if the history between us