“That doesn’t answer my question.” She laughs.
“You’ll be fine,” I say. “Trust me.”
She settles back in her seat, still eyeing the road like she’s waiting for a big clue to reveal itself. By the time we reach the overlook halfway up the mountain, the sky has gone deep blue, and the town lights below are coming alive.
I pull into the lot and park. Brinley leans forward, staring through the windshield.
“Oh,” she hums softly.
Spread along the edge of the overlook are a handful of clear domes, each lit from the inside with warm yellow light. They look like giant glass bubbles sitting along the ridge.
“What is this?”
“They’re heated igloos,” I tell her as I get out of the truck. “I reserved one for dinner.”
Her eyes widen as she climbs out.
“You did not.”
She turns slowly, taking in the view of the valley below us.
“I did.”
“This is…” She shakes her head.
“Too much?” I ask.
She looks back at me.
“No,” she says quietly. “It’s perfect.”
A host leads us to one of the domes near the edge of the overlook. I intentionally booked the one furthest away from the others, wanting space and privacy.
Inside, it’s warm despite the cold temperatures. A small table is set for two, and along the back is a curved couch facing the valley.
Brinley sits across from me, glancing around like she can’t quite believe it.
“You planned this?”
“Yeah.”
Her fingers trace the edge of her wineglass.
“I guess you really meant it when you said this was a real date.”
“I told you.” I smile.
Dinner comes out not long after, and for a while we sit there and talk about small things—classes, Brinley debating switching her major, and the team.
But eventually, the conversation shifts. I can see it coming the moment she goes quiet, staring out at the lights below us.
“Can I ask you something?” she says.
“Always.”
She glances over at me.
“Why do you think my father left town?”
