Page 13 of Across the Boards

I spendan embarrassing amount of time getting ready that evening. I stand in front of my closet deliberating like I’m choosing equipment for Game 7 of the Stanley Cup finals.

Too formal? Too casual? What exactly is the dress code for “dinner with the woman you’ve been thinking about for three years who only knows you as her ex-husband’s former teammate who’s now her neighbor”?

I settle on dark jeans, a navy button-down, and my least flashy watch. Professional but not stuffy. Interested but not desperate.

Who am I kidding? I’m absolutely desperate.

I grab the bottle of wine I’d picked up yesterday—a decent Cabernet that the shop owner assured me was “impressive without being pretentious.” Kind of what I’m going for with my whole persona tonight.

At 6:45, I check my reflection one last time, noting with dismay that my hair is doing that weird thing where it sticks up in the back no matter how much product I use. Well, perfect is overrated anyway. Maybe she likes the slightly rumpled look.

“Just be yourself,” I mutter to my reflection. Then, reconsidering, “Actually, be a slightly better version of yourself. One that doesn’t walk into walls or talk about hockey for two hours straight.”

I hear a car pull up outside—Tommy and Sarah arriving. Through the wall, I catch the murmur of voices, then Sarah’s distinctive laugh. They’re over there, probably warning Elliot about me.

I wait until exactly 7:00 before walking next door and knocking. Punctuality matters. I think. Is 7:00 on the dot too eager? Should I have waited until 7:05? Too late now.

The door opens, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.

She’s wearing an emerald green dress that makes her eyes look impossible. Her hair is loose, falling in soft waves to her shoulders, and there’s a hint of color on her lips that I immediately want to taste.

“Hi,” I manage, my voice embarrassingly rough.

“Hi yourself.” Her expression is guarded, but there’s something in her eyes I can’t quite read. “You found your way here without breaking anything?”

“Evening’s still young,” I quip, finding my footing. “Plenty of time for property damage.”

She laughs, the sound making my chest tighten, and steps back to let me in. “Sarah and Tommy are already plotting how much wine they can force on me.”

“I brought reinforcements.” I offer the bottle of Cabernet, watching her examine the label with a raised eyebrow.

“Very fancy,” she comments. “Trying to impress someone?”

“Is it working?” I counter, unable to help myself.

“Jury’s still out.” But there’s a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

From the kitchen, Sarah calls out, “Are you two coming in, or should we start without you?”

Elliot rolls her eyes. “She’s been like this all day. I may need to find a new best friend.”

“I heard that!” Sarah appears in the hallway, wine glass already in hand. “And after I sprung this surprise dinner on you to help your social life.”

“My social life was fine,” Elliot protests, but she’s smiling. “Some of us enjoy quiet evenings without unexpected hockey players.”

“Boring evenings, you mean.” Sarah turns her attention to me. “Well, don’t you clean up nicely, Carter.”

“He looks exactly the same as he does at practice,” Tommy interjects, appearing behind his wife. “Just less sweaty.”

“Always the romantic,” Sarah sighs, leaning back against him. “This is why I handle our anniversary plans.”

The easy banter between them makes me sneak a glance at Elliot. She’s watching them with a mixture of affection and something else—a wistfulness, maybe, that makes me want to pull her close and promise her everything.

Instead, I offer my arm. “Shall we join the alcoholics in the kitchen?”

Her eyebrows rise slightly, but after a moment’s hesitation, she places her hand on my arm. “Lead the way.”

Tommy and Sarah are sitting at the counter with an open bottle of wine between them.

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