I stare at my phone. I expected this. Planned for it. Still, it feels loud. Public. Immediate.
Paige grabs my wrist. “Holy shit! Say yes.”
Nancy softens. “Only if you want to.”
I inhale. This isn’t courage. It’s confirmation.
I type YES.
Send.
The waiter gasps.
Paige cheers.
Nancy sighs. “Somebody explain what's happening!”
“There’s a Valentine’s charity event,” I say. “A dating-game thing.”
“With who?” Nancy asks.
I take a sip of my drink. “The Nashville Outlaws.”
Paige squeals. Actually squeals. Heads turn.
Nancy goes completely still. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish.”
Paige is already reaching for her phone, furiously typing. “Oh my God, there’s a hashtag. There’s a press release. There’s a COUNTDOWN.”
“If you Google them at the table, I’m leaving,” I warn.
She freezes. “I won’t Google. I’ll vibe.”
Nancy leans back. “Why are you involved?”
“Because it’s a fundraiser with major media reach,” I say calmly. “Cross-industry exposure. Valentine’s timing. Perfect audience overlap for my artist.”
Paige blinks. “You practiced that.”
“I always practice,” I say. “This is business.”
The waiter reappears, practically vibrating. “Oh my God, the Hearts on Ice thing is going to be HUGE.”
All three of us stare at him.
“My cousin’s obsessed with the captain,” he adds.
Paige nearly spits out her drink. I clock it immediately… the waiter is absolutely obsessed with the captain. Of course he is.
He leans in, lowering his voice like this is confidential information. “Wait, are you the girl for the dating game?”
“I don’t know yet,” I say. “I was selected as a finalist.”
His eyes light up. “So you entered to snag a hockey boyfriend?”
“No,” I say, then pause. “I mean... professionally.”
