“If you don’t tell me what you brought here to tell me, I might be forced to interrogate you,” I teased after sampling a decent amount of my dinner.

Dante cracked a slightly nervous smile, then sipped his wine. He seemed to be fighting with himself. I raised an inquisitive brow at him and waited, chewing slowly as I watched the expressions shift over his face.

“I, um…well. First, I want to thank you,” he said, clasping my hand.

“You’re welcome. For what?”

“For pushing me to accept what I knew was coming, but didn’t want to admit,” he said vaguely, pushing food around his plate with his fork.

“What do you mean?”

“Ah…well, I knew it was inevitable. Growing up, I mean. I sort of thought if I ignored it, I could go on being a kid forever. Playing games for money, bonuses for picture day.”

He sounded bitter all of a sudden; the energy coming off of his body was almost spiky in its intensity.

“I…I’m sorry,” I mumbled, not entirely sure if his gratitude had been sarcastic.

“No, no, don’t be. I mean that. It’s better to accept it than to try and hang onto something I should have outgrown already.”

He sighed and pressed his hands together.

“Screwing around in locker rooms, tormenting newcomers…I should have put that stuff away a long time ago. I’ve decided to take Joel on as a personal project. The team’s going to need a good strong leader.”

“Don’t they already have one?” I asked, brushing my hand over his.

He smiled sadly at me, then let his face fall. “Only through the end of next season. I’m retiring.”

My heart nearly stopped. I had seen just what the game meant to Dante during our brief acquaintance, and I could feel his heart break as he said the words. I moved toward him once more, pressing my thigh against his, and took his hand.

“Are you sure?”

“I am,” he said, squeezing my hand. “It’s time for me to start thinking about moving on.”

“Start thinking about,” I repeated with a laugh. “Couldn’t think of any more ways to distance yourself from the idea?”

He twisted his lips into a wry smile. “It’s an intimidating idea,” he admitted. “I mean, the retirement package is really good, and I’m not going to have to worry about money. I saved most of what I made, although I had a couple of binge years. Everybody does at first. Joel will outgrow his before it ruins him, I think. Anyway, the money isn’t really the point. What the hell am I going to do with my time?”

He sounded lost, and it just about broke my heart.

I leaned in close, letting my lips tickle his ear as I murmured, “You can do me.”

He chuckled quietly and slipped his arm around my waist, tugging me even closer.

“That’s certainly something,” he said, kissing my mouth. He pulled back, his eyes soft as they gazed into mine. “Every day? For…a while?”

“How long is a while?” I asked, my heart pounding.

“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “Long enough to find out if we can stand each other with our clothes on?”

I made a show of weighing the options, then kissed his cheek.

“That sounds like a plan to me,” I told him. “You’ll get sick of me pretty quick.”

“I doubt that,” he said, his face reflecting his words. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get sick of you.”

“You haven’t seen me get so frustrated with an article that I start biting my toenails,” I pointed out.

He paused for a second, his mouth hanging open. He shook his head and laughed.

“I’m stuck on the idea that you’re flexible enough to do that,” he said, eyeing me suggestively. “The rest hasn’t even computed yet.”

I laughed at him and drank some wine. I remembered the older couple at the dance hall, teasing each other well into their twilight years.

I wouldn’t mind teasing Dante for a while, I thought.

“Do you do anything like that?” I asked him.

“What, bite my toenails? I haven’t been that flexible since before puberty,” he laughed. “I don’t know. I guess I get really difficult to live with right before a game. All of my brain power is focused on the win, the strategy, everything I know about the other team. That could probably get pretty irritating.”

His smile faded, then, and I winced internally.

“Guess that won’t be a problem for too much longer, though.”

“You need to focus on the positive,” I said adamantly. “What do you like to do, or what would you be interested in learning that you don’t have time for right now?”

He took a bite and chewed slowly, the cogs in his head turning.

“I wouldn’t mind getting certified as a dance teacher,” he said finally.

“You’d be great at that!” I told him. “You’re an amazing dancer and you’ve already got teaching experience from the team; go for it. I’d be happy to be your first student,” I said with a wink.

He laughed and nodded. “I certainly wouldn’t mind that,” he said, glancing sideways at me. “Maybe we should go back to the Revival after dinner?”

“My feet and I are barely on speaking terms as it is,” I said with a chuckle. “So, about what you were going to ask me…?”

“Ah, yes.” He looked sheepish; was he blushing? “So, I brought you here tonight to ask you to be with me…exclusively. I think you’re a brilliant woman, Livia, and while I don’t have a whole lot of long-term relationships under my belt, I want to try to make one work with you. I don’t know what the future will bring, but I’d like to face it with you by my side.”

He continued before my jaw could hit the floor, turning to meet my eyes with an apologetic little smile.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so preoccupied lately,” he said. “I feel like I’m walking into the dark without a flashlight in a place I’ve never been before. It’s always been hockey for me. I always figured I would have time to think about my plans the next year. Now, there’s only one more ‘next year’, and I never got around to thinking about it.”

“Then do everything,” I suggested. “Travel the world, doing everything you ever wanted to do. You’ll be free to do literally anything you could imagine. And I’d like to do it with you.”

“Really?” he asked, and I nodded.

“Really.”

* * *

The remainder of the date faded into a happy blur. We split a chocolate mousse for dessert, which was just rich enough to make me swear off desserts for life. Or at least a week. Everything had been wonderful—once the staff finally left us alone—and I mentally added the restaurant to my list of favorites.

I could see myself bringing future interviewees here, buttering them up with the atmosphere, food, and wine, and getting to the bottom of a real story. With a sudden lurch in my gut, I realized that the deadline for my story was mere days away, and I still didn’t have anything I could use.

I should really skip the post-dessert, I told myself.

But when Dante asked me if I wanted to come back to his place, I said yes. I would write in the morning, I decided. Tonight, it was time to live.