“No tumors.” He presses his lips against my forehead. “Promise.”
I let out a breath. “Thank the Lord.” Now to pray the headaches go away.
“Exactly. Nothing to worry about it.”
“Wait, aren’t you speaking with a donor, tonight?”
“Yes, why?”
I look down at my outfit. “Maybe I should’ve worn something else.”
“That’s a Warriors’ jersey, right?”
“Yes.”
“Sounds like the perfect thing to wear to a hockey game.”
“But you have on a suit. What will the donor say?” I hate feeling out of place, and I know this is work for Jabari.
“Whose number are you wearing?”
Heat infuses my cheeks. “Yours.”
“Then that’s all that matters.” A grin lights his face. “You can wear my number to every game and nothing else as far as I’m concerned.” A sheepish look covers his face. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know.” I laugh so he knows it’s all good.
We talk until we arrive at the arena. Fans recognize Jabari as we enter the VIP entrance, screaming out his name. He stops to shake a few hands, take pictures with others, and sign a couple of autographs. I tap my phone against the ticket reader, and we walk through the security gates. People are whispering, and some of the women have stars in their eyes as they glance our way.
A security guard meets us on the floor where the suites are and, after examining our tickets, lets us through. An usher leads us to our empty suite. Well, empty of people, because it’s full of a spread that has my stomach reacting in appreciation.
“There’s so much food,” I say.
“Eat. We can relax before Mr. Warren gets here.”
I turn and look at Jabari. “Are you nervous?” I reach for a plate and add a sub sandwich, some wings, and a portion of nachos. How can anyone resist nachos?
“A little. I can’t say why I get nervous, but once we start talking, the nerves will flee.”
That makes sense. He probably starts getting comfortable and forgets this is his job. Not to mention I’m sure the donors ask a lot about the sport he loves so much.
“Do you want me to make you a plate?” I ask.
“Please.” He comes behind me, and I tell him what’s laid out.
We grab our plates and sit in the most luxurious seats. Though this isn’t as normal as our bench date yesterday, it feels right. Me and the guy I love eating food at a hockey game—in a suite.
The potential supporter, Mr. Warren, shows up after we have finished our first helping. Jabari immediately turns on his charm persona, laughing and cracking jokes. He introduces me as his girlfriend, and I have to will my heart to calm down. It can’t react like this every single time Jabari says something that makes me wish fainting couches were still a thing. Surely the warmth of having him by my side will mellow.
Do you really wantit to?
“I’d love to tell you why I love the Warriors so much.” Jabari starts explaining why the team is such a great organization.
I listen as he turns Mr. Warren from a stranger into a friend.
“Your grandson plays?” Jabari asks.
“Yes, we can’t keep him from playing, even when it’s not a practice day. We have a net set up in the basement, and he practices shooting all day.”
