Page 7 of Run Home

There’s a small, mostly empty seating area to the right, so it’s easy to spot him at a booth in the back. When I head that way, the hostess stops me, asking how many are in my party.

“Oh, I see who I’m meeting already,” I answer, pointing toward Adrian.

She stops me again, a sheepish look on her face. “I’m sorry, ma’am—can I ask the name on the reservation?”

Narrowing my eyes, I glance back at Adrian, who’s watching this interaction with a concerning level of glee.

“I can see him right there,” I emphasize.

Pink colors the poor girl’s cheeks. “I’m so sorry. He gave me a generous tip to make you name the reservation before allowing you back.”

I glare at Adrian’s Cheshire cat grin, only making him grin wider. “You’re ridiculous!” I call loudly, but he simply raises both hands and shrugs.

“Do I really have to do this?” I plead to the hostess. She looks trapped.

“I mean . . . it was a very large tip, ma’am,” she replies, voice small.

Sighing, I wrack my brain and ask for a hint. “Was it something inappropriate or something baseball related?”

“Um, I don’t know anything about baseball, but I didn’t recognize it as anything inappropriate,” she says.

Has to be baseball then. Probably something from The Sandlot.

Ugh, what were all the nicknames they had for Babe Ruth? I rub my temples. Searching my memory for the rhythm of the movie dialogue, I mouth to myself before saying aloud, “Sultan of Swat?”

She shakes her head, confused.

“King of Crash?” Shake. “Colossus of Clout?” Another no.

“Please, please tell me it’s The Great Bambino,” I say.

Her eyes light up. “Yes! That was it!” She leans forward to whisper, “Is it inappropriate?”

“No. Just a nickname for a baseball legend,” I say, loudly enough for Adrian to hear, then practically yell, “Which that guy will never be!”

Adrian is doubled over with laughter by the time I march back to his table.

I hide my amusement behind a mask of annoyance. Sliding into the opposite side of the booth, I say, “You’re lucky we watched The Sandlot together with Griffin four hundred times over the years. You owe me dumplings for that.”

Adrian’s dark brown eyes twinkle when he says, “I knew you’d get it eventually. And I already ordered dumplings and edamame.”

“You’re forgiven then, due to effective bribery,” I say. “Although I may take it back for not telling me about this place before now.”

“It’s a recent discovery,” Adrian says. “I wouldn’t have kept it from you for too long.”

I kick his shin under the table, making him laugh. Looking over the menu, I narrow down the tempting choices to my top two.

“So what’s the urgent wedding planning that needs to happen? You know I’m not the planning type, right?” Adrian asks.

Rolling my eyes, I say, “I’m not having you plan the wedding, silly. Even if I might be the official wedding coordinator.” I mime flipping my hair over my shoulder with flourish. “That would work a lot better if my hair was longer.”

Something flickers through Adrian’s eyes. “I like it this length. I know it was really long when you first moved here, but this is the longest it’s been in several years, right?”

My cheeks heat as I break eye contact. “Yeah. It was down to my shoulder blades when I first got here. But then I went through an extended phase of variations on pixie cuts. I do think I like the longer bob, but I probably won’t grow it super long again. Even if it would make for more dramatic hair flippage.” I turn the attention to him. “Speaking of longer hair, you’ve really let yours grow out. It looks good. Is this a superstition now with the season going so well?”

“Nah, I just like it,” Adrian replies, running his hand from the short buzzed section of hair above his ears through the black-brown curls at the base of his skull. The long curls across his forehead are striking against his tan, brown skin. “We lost Griffin’s signature Wizard haircut, so we needed someone else with a stand-out style on the team,” he says with a wink.

“I wondered if Griffin might bring back his faded faux-hawk for the wedding since that’s the style he had when they first met. But he’s keeping his boring old-man cut now,” I huff, drawing another laugh from Adrian.