Page 89 of Elf-ish

I hold up the old hockey uniform, a replica of the Chicago favorites.

“Ashford,” she reads the back of the jersey that was customized with my name. The number nine is stitched underneath.

“My mom gave me this back when I was in college, and I just thought . . .” I watch her face, morph from confusion to something softer.

“You don’t have to—” Suddenly, it feels like a silly thing, a stupid ask.

“I’d love to wear it.” She reaches for the jersey and runs her fingertips over my name on the back. “Can I wear it tonight?”

Sheepishly, I admit, “I was hoping you would.”

Right in front of me, she whips off her sweater, exposing a red tank top, and then slips the jersey over her head.

Fuck. She looks hot.

Spinning to give me her back, she asks, “What do you think?”

I think I like my name on her a little too much, and it makes me wonder if she’d ever attend a softball game with me in the summer. I play in a sixteen-inch summer league. But summer feels like a long way away from winter.

“I think you look like the ultimate fan.”

She beams a smile at me, and I reach for her, needing another kiss before we leave.

When we finally arrive at the stadium, I’m leading her to our seats when I hear someone call my name.

“Ashford.”

With my hand on Angelica’s back, I glance over my shoulder at a man from that summer league softball team.

“Fitz,” I hold out a hand and shake his. The dark-haired, dark-eyed man instantly captures Angelica’s attention.

“Fitz, this is Angelica Winter. Angelica, Fitz Carlucci.” His real name is Leonardo, but his dad goes by Leo, so Fitz goes by a shortened version of his middle name.

“Carlucci,” Angelica gasps. “As in the restaurant?”

“Yeah,” Fitz chuckles, good-natured and easy about his famous name.

Carlucci’s is a famous Italian restaurant in the city and seeing Angelica’s excitement about meeting this restaurant entrepreneur makes me add Carlucci’s to my list of places to take her in the future.

But I have another reason for Angelica to meet Fitz.

“This is the woman I told you about. The one needing a place for her brother’s wedding.”

Angelica’s head swivels toward me. The concourse in the stadium is crowded, and this isn’t exactly how I planned to introduce her to my idea.

“You’re trying to secure Carlucci’s for my brother’s wedding?” Her voice rises with hope, and I hate to dash that enthusiasm.

Fitz does it for me. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Carlucci’s books out months in advance.” He chuckles again. “But we just opened a new brewery in November, and the event space on the second floor is available.”

Angelica looks wide-eyed between Fitz and me. “So, you have space for a December twenty-third wedding?” she clarifies.

“An entire party room at your disposal, beautiful.” He winks at Angelica, and I’d throat punch him if he weren’t making her beam the way she is. Beam, while she’s looking at me.

“Really?” she asks me, like she needs my approval.

“Really.” I nod at Fitz.

“Here.” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a black card with embossed gold writing. His name and a phone number. “Don’t share that with anyone. Call me tomorrow, though, and we can discuss the particulars.”