“I don’t have all of that yet,” I say. “PR said they’ll email.”
Paige groans. “I hate email. Email is where excitement goes to die.”
My phone buzzes again, like it heard her insult and took it personally. I glance down.
PR FOLLOW-UP: Date confirmed. Tomorrow night. 7:30 PM. Location forthcoming. Please confirm availability.
Tomorrow.
Not next week. Not ‘sometime soon.’ Tomorrow.
I type back CONFIRMED before I can think too hard about what that means.
Paige’s eyes widen. “Is that it? Is that the face of someone who just scheduled a date with a hockey captain?”
“It’s the face of someone who scheduled a work obligation,” I say.
Nancy smiles. “For yourself.”
“For charity,” I add.
Paige points at me. “You’re doing the thing.”
“What thing?”
“Where you treat human interaction like a calendar block,” she says. “Very efficient. Very concerning.”
I shrug. “It keeps things clear.”
Nancy studies me for a second. “Does it?”
I don’t answer right away.
Because here’s the thing.
I already know why I chose him. I just haven’t let myself sit with it yet.
Mason was confident in a way that filled the space.
Gregory was impressive in a way that wanted to be understood.
Colby didn’t try to take the room at all.
He waited.
He answered what was asked, not what would land best.
He didn’t chase the laugh or play to the cameras or lean into the fantasy of it.
He treated the moment like it mattered because a person was sitting across from him, not because thousands were watching.
I chose the one who didn’t perform.
That should’ve felt safe.
Instead, it felt… specific.
“Say it,” Paige says suddenly.
