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Last time, Parker made it clear that there are no strings attached. But what else could this be?

Last week’s road trip went well. We won four out of five games. We had to give up the second back-to-back game. We couldn’t say for sure what threw us off. Whether it was fatigue, the three different time zones, the fact that the backup goalie had to play, or the referees who blew the whistle way too quickly—a loss was a loss. What we did know was that no one would take our next home games away from us.

I’d spent my day off preparing for the evening, thinking about what I wanted to say to Parker.

The casual way the people on my team talk about their families and partners strikes me as particularly remarkable this time. Or maybe I’m perceiving it differently.

Usually, I’m busy making sure not to reveal anything about myself, never letting myself get too carried away that something slips out in a moment of weakness. Always in control of every situation. Whether on the ice or at the after-parties, I’ve got everything under control.

On this trip, though, I allowed myself to observe. Since everyone assumes that Valentina and I are a couple, I was safe from questions. Everyone lapped up what Parker posted online and didn’t question it.

Absurd.

Of course, that’s exactly why I hired the agency. But this success has me thinking.

My phone vibrates. I glance at it and see Parker’s message. He’s in the lobby.

I rub my hands on my thighs.

How should I greet him? Give him a hug? Shake his hand?

I quickly walk to the door and open it, staring at the elevator.

Finally, the elevator doors open.

Parker grins. “Hey, that’s some welcome committee.”

He walks toward me and stops in front of me. His grin turns into a laugh. “I don’t know what to do. The whole ride here, I’ve been thinking about how to greet you.”

His easygoing manner puts me at ease. That’s Parker. I know him. Yes, we’ve both grown, but deep down, he’s the Parker I once knew.

He wrinkles his nose and shrugs.

Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t help myself. I open my arms, and he steps toward me. His embrace is warm, even though he’s bringing the cold February air with him.

I allow myself to press a fleeting kiss on his head. He surely won’t notice, I tell myself. As I do, I breathe him in.

Fresh, familiar, but also new.

Parker puts his hands on my chest between us and gently pushes me away from him. “Right. We’ve got that out of the way.” He’s carrying a bag over his shoulder, and he adjusts the strap. He points to it. “I brought some work with me. Shall we?”

So it’s not a date. Good. That’s good. “Come on in.”

Just like on his last visit, Parker heads straight for my window and he lets his gaze wander over Central Park. “This is seriously amazing. I love this view.”

As I walk toward him, I can’t take my eyes off him. I love my view, too. Stay realistic, Evan. “Can I help you with anything?”

Parker turns to me and takes off his jacket. “Thanks. I’ll keep the bag.” I point to the beanie on his head. “Ah.” He quickly pulls off the hat and stuffs it into his pocket.

I point to the table at the far end of the living area. Not the kitchen counter. “If you’re hungry? I haven’t eaten yet myself.”

His eyes widen, and he seems to only now notice that the table is set. Maybe I went a bit overboard with the candles and the cloth napkins, but since I didn’t even cook myself, I want to at least maintain a certain standard.

“Wow.” He beams at me. “You cooked.”

Ouch. “No. But I ordered from your favorite Indian place.”

His expression softens. “That’s even better.” He puts a hand over his mouth. “I don’t mean that as an insult. I’m sure you’re a fantastic cook.”