“Okay,” I ask, curious. “Why?”
She gives me a look. “Is that any way to greet a friend? Especially someone who helped you bake a Saran wrap cake?”
“Saran wrap cake?” Theo asks. “Gross.”
“It’s not Saran wrap cake,” I say, then wave a hand. “Never mind.”
“I have an idea for a proposal. A romantic one,” she says. “Do you have a sec?”
“Sure,” I say, turning to Theo. “Do you mind?”
“All good,” he says. “I should handle the sponsors myself anyway.”
“Okay. My business cards are in the boxes,” I say, as he heads down the hallway toward the suites, and Remy grabs my elbow and ushers me back through the food concourse, nodding to her boyfriend, who works the taps at a local craft beer brewery here at the arena.
“So I have a potential client for my Romance By Design business,” she says.
“Oh! That’s great.”
Remy’s been hoping to use her podcast as a springboard to launch a business as a romance designer extraordinaire—from the meet-cute to the proposal, she’s your go-to girl for picture-perfect moments to remember.
We weave past vendors and security guards before the concourse opens to the arena bowl. “Wait. Are we watching the game?” I ask.
“Do you have to go back?” she asks, concerned. “I thought the bakery was closing soon.”
“It is. In thirty minutes, so this is fine. I just wasn’t expecting to watch a game tonight.”
“Well, you’re with me. Special treatment,” she says, and holy shit. Special treatment indeed. She ushers me down, down, down all the way to a row right behind the players’ bench.
My heart squeezes, and a pang of longing digs deep into my chest.
Corbin will be here tonight. It’ll be hard to see him. But I’m getting used to the challenge—like I had to get used to it at work earlier today. It’ll be fine. I swear it’ll be fine.
I steal a glance toward the tunnel. He’ll be coming through there in a few more minutes. My chest flutters, and I will my body to settle down.
But my brain has other ideas. It flashes back on last night with my friends—the things they said.
Did you tell him you fell for him too?
When a guy falls hard, he goes all out.
We can have it all—if we let ourselves.
Maybe they’re right. Maybe I should insist on sharing the last letter with him after all. And the last page I didn’t read after all. I didn’t feel right continuing to read it without him.
But for now, I join Remy and listen to her talk about her plans till the game starts. The lights dim. The music swells. And the fox mascot skates onto the ice as an announcer booms, “And now, your Golden State Foxes.”
Excitement pings through me as the crowd roars.
The players fly through the tunnel as the announcer calls their names.
“Miller Lockwood.”
The goalie skates onto the ice as the sea of fans erupts.
“Lake Axelrod.”
More cheers.
