“Yeah, me either.” Dom shrugs, and I realize it doesn’t matter who owns it, because we walk right past it.
To the emergency exit.
“Okay, I can’t take it anymore,” I think aloud. “Are we going to have dinner on the stairway outside? Because I don’t know if you know this, but I’m kind of distrusting of stairwells… I saw this movie once where this serial killer basically, like, hunted women, and it was always in those creepy stairwells—”
“That’s not where we’re going,” he cuts in, laughing. There’s something in his tone that makes me smile—because I’m pretty sure he’s just as nervous as I am.
When we enter the emergency staircase, he actually turns us, and we start up the roof access staircase instead. I eye theemployee access onlysign and nudge him. “I had no idea you were so rebellious.”
“I’m not rebellious.” He shakes his head. “I cleared it.”
“Must have pulled some of those fancy NBA player strings.”
“Something like that.” He pushes the rooftop access door open for me and lets go of my arm, letting me step through on my own.
And I catch my breath.
“Oh my gosh.” My hand flies up to my mouth as I take in the single table with two chairs, already set for us. It’s surrounded by string lights, and the city lights go beyond, illuminating all around us. “This is amazing.” He thought about me.
He grins as I look back at him. “I was hoping you’d like it. I was a little worried you might be afraid of heights.”
I glance toward the edge. “I am one-hundred percent afraid of heights. But I think I’ll be okay.” I give him a smirk and then head for the table.
He beats me to it and pulls out my chair for me. And like a true gentleman, he waits for me to take my seat, and then he helps me scoot it forward. I eye him as he walks around to his own seat.
“Thanks for coming, by the way,” he says as he scoots up himself, and digs into the picnic basket, pulling out two glasses, a bottle of wine, and basically a five-star meal of steak and potatoes.
“I’m so impressed right now.” I giggle as he serves me. “I had no idea you were so creative with dates.”
“Yeah. Idefinitelydidn’t Google this.” He gives me a look, and then we both laugh. “But thank you.”
“This food looks amazing. Did you make all this yourself?”
He gives me a sheepish grin. “I wish I could say yes and impress you with my culinary skills, but I’d be lying. I can make exactly three things without burning down a kitchen: scrambled eggs, protein shakes, and microwave burritos.”
“A true bachelor’s diet,” I tease.
“Exactly.” He reaches for the bottle of wine. “So I called in reinforcements. The team nutritionist also happens to be a personal chef. Wine?”
I nod, watching as he pours a deep red liquid into my glass with surprising grace for someone with such large hands. “What should we toast to?”
Dom considers for a moment, then raises his own glass. “To new beginnings. In new cities.”
“I’ll drink to that,” I say softly, clinking my glass against his.
The wine is rich and smooth, perfectly complementing the steak as I take my first bite. “Oh my goodness,” I murmur after swallowing. “If his job with the Comets doesn’t work out, you should definitely hire this guy full-time.”
Dom chuckles. “I’ll let him know.” He cuts into his own steak, his movements precise and careful. “Speaking of the Comets, today’s practice was actually … good.”
“Yeah?” I pause with my fork midair. “Tell me about it.”
Something shifts in his expression, a quiet pride that hadn’t been there before. “I don’t know. Something just clicked. I finally found my rhythm with the team. Even Coach noticed.”
“That’s fantastic,” I say, genuinely happy for him. I know how much he’s struggled to feel like he belongs here.
“Marcus thinks it’s because of you,” Dom says, a hint of color rising in his cheeks.
I nearly choke on my potato. “Me? What did I do?”
