By the time I got home from my meeting with Tatum, Isla was sitting on my bed while my mother braided her hair for her sleepover. She had packed enough clothes for a week even though she was spending one night with my parents.
“Grandma says we can make pancakes tomorrow,” Isla announced.
“Sounds good,” I replied.
Isla looked up at me. “Are you going on your date with Catherine?”
I glanced at Mom. She didn’t pretend she was not listening.
“Yes,” I said.
Isla’s face lit up. “Good. Don’t be weird.”
“I’ll try,” I chuckled. I crouched in front of Isla. “You okay staying with Grandma and Grandpa tonight?”
“Yes.” She gave me a look like I had asked something deeply offensive. “Grandpa lets me put chocolate chips in pancakes.”
“That was supposed to be our little secret,” Mom said.
I kissed Isla’s forehead. “Call me if you need anything.”
After Mom and Isla left, I sent the dress to Catherine’s parents’ apartment with a note. Wear this only if you want. If not, wear anything. I just wanted tonight to feel like it belonged to you. The dress was blue because she had worn blue at the ranch, and apparently, I had not recovered. Her text came fifteen minutes later.
Catherine: You sent me a dress?
Me: I sent you an option.
Catherine: Thanks. I love it.
Catherine: Where are we going?
Me: Surprise.
Catherine: Hunter.
Me: Driver will be here at seven. I’ll come up to get you.
Catherine: To my parents?
I read the alarm in her text, but I needed to face Cole and Holland at some point, so I figured there was no time like the present.
Me: Yes. We’re together. They know. It’s the right thing to do.
Catherine: How chivalrous of you.
That made me laugh.
At seven, I stepped into the elevator, adjusting the cuff of my jacket and trying not to think about the fact that I was nervous. I had played in sold-out arenas, worn a letter on my chest through playoff runs, angry media scrums, injuries, trades, and third periods that turned my lungs into fire. Apparently, none of that compared to picking Catherine up from her parents’ apartment while her father watched.
The elevator stopped on the Davis floor, and for one second, I stared at the doors like they might open into a firing squad. I stepped out before I could talk myself into pretending this was less important than it was. This was not just picking Catherine up. This was me showing up at the front door. I was here for Catherine. And everyone in that apartment was going to know it. I knocked twice. The door opened almost immediately, and Jaden stood there with a bowl of cereal in one hand even though it was seven at night. He looked me up and down.
“Whoa.”
“Hey, Jaden.”
“Are you wearing a suit?”
“Yes.”