Tonight was different, though. Casey was at Lily's for a sleepover. For once, it was just Sadie and me in our home. No responsibilities, no interruptions. We'd shared stolen moments, but this was our first real date night at home. Just us, no crisis pushing us together, no need to rush. Time to be together.
I checked the fairy lights for the third time, making sure each strand was perfectly placed. The soft glow transformed my usually stark living room into something almost magical. Warm amber light reflected on the polished surfaces, creating a private setting that was nothing like the practical space where Casey and I built LEGO sets or where Palisade and I discussed school schedules.
My phone buzzed with a text from Palisade:Just leaving the clinic. Be there in 15.
I'd faced championship games with less anxiety than I was feeling now, which was ridiculous. This was Palisade, the woman I'd been living with for months now, the mother of my child, the person I'd been falling for since the moment she walked back into my life. We'd already shared so much with the intensity at Sassy's, the emotional breakthrough at the lookout, the daily intimacy of building a life together.
But tonight was important. It was a turning point.
I adjusted the wine glasses on the coffee table one last time, then retrieved the box from my bedroom. The carvedwooden container had traveled with me for years, through three apartments and countless road trips. I'd never shown it to anyone. Holly didn't even know I had these things.
When the front door opened, I nearly dropped the box.
Stop acting like a lovesick idiot.
Taking a deep breath, I went into the living room to find Palisade standing there, still in her dark blue scrubs under her winter coat, hair pulled back in a practical ponytail. She looked tired but beautiful as she walked into the transformed room.
"What's all this?" she asked as I took her coat.
"I thought we deserved a night that wasn't about Casey's hockey schedule or clinic emergencies," I explained, self-conscious about the effort I'd put into the evening. "Just us."
Her expression softened. "It's beautiful, Easton."
As she moved deeper into the room, her gaze swept across everything. The bottle of wine on the counter, the playlist of acoustic covers playing softly in the background, the fairy lights creating pools of golden light throughout the space.
"You did all this today?" She asked, turning to face me.
I shrugged, aiming for casual but probably missing by a mile. "I had some time between practice and picking up dinner."
She smiled and looked toward the kitchen. "Speaking of dinner, something smells amazing."
"Italian from Marcello's. I got the gnocchi you like." I walked into the kitchen, grateful for the momentary distraction of plating our food. "Wine?"
"Please."
We settled on the couch with our plates, and the conversation flowed more easily than I expected. Palisade told me about a difficult surgery she'd performed that afternoon, her face animated as she described saving a puppy who'd swallowed a toy. I shared stories from practice, including Beck's latest prank on the rookies that had the entire team in stitches.
It was normal. Comfortable. Like we'd been doing this for years instead of months.
As we finished dinner, the wooden box of mementos sat beside me on the couch. Palisade noticed my gaze shifting to it.
"What's that?" she asked, curiosity in her voice.
I took a deep breath. "Something I've been keeping for a while." I picked up the box, running my thumb over the carved pattern on its lid. "A long while, actually."
Her eyebrows furrowed as I handed it to her. It was the size of a hardcover book, though heavier when it moved from my hands to hers.
"Should I open it?" she asked, her fingers tracing the pattern on the lid.
I nodded, unable to find words.
Palisade carefully lifted the lid. A gasp escaped as she peered inside at the contents. On top lay a napkin from the bar where we'd met—The Rink, a sports bar downtown that had hosted a charity event after an off-season exhibition game. Holly had dragged her along, and I'd spotted Palisade sitting at the bar, looking beautiful but uncomfortable while Holly mingled with the crowd.
She lifted the napkin with gentle fingers, seeing the bar's logo printed on it. "You kept this?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"I kept everything," I admitted, watching her face closely.
Beneath the napkin was a shot glass from that night, with the bar's logo etched into the glass. "You saved the shot glass?" She asked, with laughter and disbelief in her voice.
