Page 74

She laughs. “No. I mean, it’s not small, but my dad came from nothing. You’ll see when you meet him. He prides himself on work ethic. He’s more blue collar than white collar, I promise.”
The elevator doors open, and I fit my hand through hers. “Is this okay?”
She nods, squeezing me. I stare down at where we connect, her long, slender fingers clutching mine. Honestly, it feels better than I could’ve imagined.
“You with me?” Len asks.
“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
The way she lights up is a beacon beckoning me out of the darkness Trish left me in. She’s like a lamp that’s been finally turned on.
She’s gorgeous.
Len gives her last name to the host, and we’re seated in a small, offset room with only a few tables, making me feel better about the jeans I’m wearing. If I’d known where we were eating, I would’ve gone to the game dressed nicer. I was so looking forward to spending time with Len that the dinner afterward was the last thing on my mind.
“Oh, here he is,” Len states, standing with a smile on her face.
I rise with her, looking over my shoulder to find a man my father’s age, though his hair is slicked back and gray. Not the kind of gray that denotes their age, but the kind that saysdistinguished. She was right. He’s wearing khakis with a button-up, the two buttons at the top left open.
“There’s my Pumpkin.” He hugs her, and they embrace for a while, making me wonder when they saw each other last. I know she hasn’t seen him since I moved into the suite, yet I’ve seen my parents.
When they back away, she gestures toward me. “Dad, I’d like to introduce you to Isaiah James.”
Her dad spins, holding his hand out. “Nice to meet you, Isaiah. I’m Chad Robertson.”
“Mr. Robertson, nice to meet you.”
His grip is firm, and for a moment, I forget he’s Len’s dad as I peer into the eyes of a well-respected man in my sport. He’s like Jerry Jones, the owner of the Cowboys or Vince McMahon of WWE. Everyone knows who they are. They’re at every game and event. They’re a symbol of the team as much as the star is.
He pats my bicep and walks around me. “Isaiah James, I feel like I’ve heard that name before.”
Len clears her throat. “Dad’s a walking stat machine, so don’t get too big of a head.” She smiles at me and then at her dad. “He plays for Warner, Dad. You probably saw his name mentioned.”
“Well, you’re right. Isn’t that something? My only daughter dating a hockey player. I never thought I’d see this happen.”
Len chokes on her water, and the both of us laugh.
“You didn’t think I saw you two on the Jumbotron?” He winks at me before turning his attention toward Len, who’s sporting a cherry-red face.
“Sorry about that, sir,” I intervene. “I often find myself taken by her.”
“I just like to make my daughter embarrassed, that’s all.”
I sit back in my chair, relaxing more and more. I half expected a tyrant to walk into the room. When I saw the foyer, I was pretty sure we were meeting a Rockefeller and I’d have toknow what spoon to eat my appetizer with. But as Len promised, he’s down to earth.
A menu moves into my vision, and I thank the waiter while he hands the rest of them out to the table.
“So, Isaiah, are you any good at hockey?”
“Dad!”
I laugh along with him, and Len sends me a look.
“He’s the highest scorer for the Bulldogs. He’s a winger. He’s had three hat tricks in his career, including one this season, and his stats are solid.”
“Wow. Stalker.”
Her mouth drops a little. “I requested your stats for…the thing I have to do.”