Page 117 of Last Night Was Fun

You didn’t google the address?

No. It wasn’t one of the instructions.

Emmy smiled to herself, thinking of the scene she’d come upon in their hotel room. They were on the road with the team for a stint in Miami. After the Saturday day game had ended in a victory, Emmy headed back to their shared room, as had become routine over the past year. Gabe had been nowhere to be found, but laid out on the bed was the silky blue dress she was wearing, with a note sayingWear me, an overnight bag withBring me, and an address written on a piece of the hotel stationery withMeet me. She’d followed all instructions, called a rideshare, and was now an hour into a sunset-soaked drive headed into the Florida Keys.

Well, then I guess you’ll find out when you get here.

I am intrigued.

You should be.

She set her phone in her lap with a smile and leaned back against the headrest. Her driver had chatted with her for the first half hour but was now zoned out to the lo-fi music softly playing through the speakers. Emmy had slipped into a near trance too. Aside from the excited anticipation over whatever Gabe had in store bubbling inside her, she was exhausted. They were midway through a ten-game road trip. They had another night in Miami and then three games in New York before they headed back home. In truth, she would have been happy to fall asleep in front of the TV tonight with Gabe, wherever that TV happened to be, but she knew by the dress and the set of cryptic instructions he had something much more exciting planned.

She loved the life they were building together. Ever since that night at the stadium in LA—videos of which had gone viral and landed them on the local news and all over the internet—Emmy had embraced being head-over-heels. The challenge of partitioning her personal and professional lives had all but dissolved. It helped that she and Gabe no longer shared an office so the tempting physical distractions were minimal, but more than that, she realized shecouldhave both. It was possible to be fulfilled in both aspects of her life without sacrificing either.

Which was good, because she had no intention of giving him up, nor he her. And they both loved what they did.

It had felt like they’d jumped off the deep end when they first started traveling with the team. So much changed so quickly but having him there to experience it with her eased the transition. They began spending the night in each other’s hotel rooms frequently enough that they started having the team book just one for them to share. And when they were home, he was at her place, or she at his anyway. She was exceeding expectations as a senior analyst—she’d pushed to keep Hollander thanks to Gabe’s equation, and he was having an all-star season this year—and Gabe was living out his dream getting to be so close to the field as he worked his way up on the training staff. It all clicked because they worked hard to make it click.

But being with him was as effortless as breathing.

She’d grown a little sleepy by the time her driver pulled up to a sprawling bungalow shrouded in leafy palms. The house sat down a private road and backed up to a beach. Emmy knew without seeing it that it had a killer view. Glass panels flanked the blue front door. The eaves hung low over a set of table and chairs. The sun had set, but the house glowed from within—and from the outside thanks to the clusters of flickering candles on the front porch.

“Looks like our stop,” her driver said. “Have a nice night.”

“Thanks,” Emmy said, a little shocked by the location. Surely this place had to cost a fortune. She grabbed her overnight bag and climbed out into the humidity. The evening had cooled off thanks to a breeze curling in from the water. She’d never been to the Keys but instantly fell in love. Sweet salt hung in the thick air; the trees rustled. Waves rolled and crashed somewhere in the distance.

She made her way up to the front door, sidestepping the candles, and knocked before opening it. “Gabe?” she called as she swung it open. “I hope I’m not about to get mur—” she started to joke but her voice disappeared in her gaping mouth.

Killer viewwas an understatement. The back of the house was made of enough glass to look like the beach was part of the living room. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed a view of underlit palms and a deck leading to white sand and dark waves. Two rows of flickering candles lit up a small runway leading out the back doors where a dining table was set with glittering stemware and more candles.

“Um...” Emmy said, still shocked, as Gabe appeared from around a corner wiping his hands on a kitchen towel.

“Ah, didn’t hear you pull up. Welcome,” he said with a wide grin. “You look beautiful.” He eyed her dress up and down. It was not something from her closet, and she had to give him credit for picking out something so flattering. The baby blue draped over her chest and fluttered around her ankles with a slit to her knees. He was barefoot in shorts and a loose button-down with rolled sleeves. His hair was tousled like maybe he’d jumped in the ocean and let it air-dry.

“Hi,” Emmy said as Gabe came over and kissed her cheek. She was too stunned to kiss him back, so she kissed the empty air instead. “Um, what is this place?”

He took her bag and gestured out the open back doors. “Dinner is almost ready. I’ll join you in a second.”

Emmy walked in a trance toward the back doors. As she passed, she managed to note the living room to the left with comfy-looking low-profile furniture. The kitchen was off to the right; she glimpsed it from around the corner, and then saw all of it through the windows from the back deck. Gabe had a spread of food set up on an island under dangling pendant lights. The stainless-steel appliances shone from the perimeter of the room.

“Want to tell me how you got access to the Scarface mansion out here?” Emmy called, and sank into one of the cushy dining chairs. The breeze blew in off the cove and ruffled her dress. Indeed, the beach was private. A small dock stuck out into it with a pair of Jet Skis bobbing at its side.

Gabe reappeared with a bottle of champagne in one hand and two flutes in the other. “Did you forget your brother-in-law’s family is filthy rich?” he said with a playful tilt of his head.

The pieces slid into place. He’d had help from Piper. Perhaps that explained the dress. She made a mental note to text her sister later. Emmy sarcastically smacked her palm to her forehead. “Silly me.That does tend to slip my mind. Which Carmichael do I owe thanks to for this?”

“Uncle Bob,” he said, and untwisted the cage on the champagne bottle.

“Thanks, Uncle Bob.” Emmy toasted with the empty flute she’d picked up. “May I ask what the occasion is?” She watched the corded muscles in his forearm move under his tanned skin while he worked the cork loose with a pop.

“Well, as you might know, this weekend is the one-year anniversary of the fated fake number incident.”

“Ah, yes.Last night was fun.Smiley face.” She winked at him.

He playfully smirked back. “I thought, in honor of the event, it might be nice to spend the night here instead of in a hotel room eating takeout and running analyses and watching game footage on our laptops until you fall asleep on me.”

“While youdidjust describe my ideal Saturday night, I do see your point. Good call,” she said, and nodded at the white sand stretching from the back step out to the cove where water lapped and palms swayed.