I check my reflection in the bathroom mirror one last time, and nod in satisfaction. I think I look fine, and like I didn’t overdo it, but I just hope I’m not underdressed for this thing. My hands smooth the folds of the dress, and when I’m satisfied, I grab my purse on the way out the door and lock it behind me.

I don’t know why I didn’t think to look up the address ahead of time, but when I pull into the parking lot a few minutes later, I realize that the charity event is being held at a local ice-skating rink. I guess that makes sense for an event featuring hockey players, but for whatever reason, I assumed this was going to be a more formal affair. And a twinge of self-consciousness creeps into the corners of my brain about being overdressed.

Thankfully though, when I climb out of my car, I spot my parents and several of the Aces heading into the building together, so I hurry to catch up with them. My mother sees me coming and waves, but as I get closer to her, the tingle of self-consciousness I was feeling before turns into a knot in my stomach as I realize I’m dressed way nicer than everyone else.

Oops. Shit.

“Hi, sweetheart. You look lovely,” my mother says as she wraps an arm around me. She probably means it, but I still can’t help interpreting it as a jab. “But I think you might freeze in here,” she adds in a whisper.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I tell her with a confident smile when we break apart, although I’m honestly already feeling a little cold—and we haven’t even gone inside yet. But I’ll just have to deal with it, because it’s too late to pick another outfit now.

What I’m wearing doesn’t matter. I’m here for the team. It’s going to be fine.

I repeat that to myself as I follow the group into the building. As we pass through the entrance, my eyes catch on a banner hanging from the rink’s boards that reads “Skate with the Aces,” and I inwardly cringe. It’s not just the team here—it’s families and kids, all decked out in casual clothes perfect for skating.

My gaze drifts across the ice where several families are already gliding around, some with natural grace and others wobbling along. A little girl looks my way curiously before being distracted by something more interesting, and I can’t blame her. I must look like I’m headed to a cocktail party rather than a casual meet-and-greet at an ice rink.