Page 80 of Power Play

“We’ll be back in a few hours,” I promise.

Riley takes a deep breath, then bends down, pressing a kiss to Emmy’s forehead, and I follow suit.

“Okay, let’s go before I change my mind,” she says.

Itching to get my wife alone, I open the hall closet and pull out her coat, holding it open for her. Riley smiles up at me, nerves plain to see.

“It’ll be okay.” Taking her hand in mine, I squeeze her reassuringly before leading her to the door. I help her into the car, and she types an address into the GPS. “You won’t tell me where we’re going?”

“You’ll see when we get there.”

The drive is relatively quick, all things considered. As much as I want to reach over and set my hand on her leg, the light snowfall means I’m forced to keep both hands on the wheel.

We arrive at a steakhouse in the Seaport. There’s usually a wait list a month long, so I’m surprised when we walk in and are seated at a table right away.

“How did you manage this?” I ask, glancing around the packed dining room.

“I might have pulled a few strings,” she says with a shy smile. “Turns out mentioning my husband plays with the Grizzlies opens quite a few doors.”

Throwing my head back, I laugh. “Good. I’m glad.”

She’s not trying to ride my coattails. She’s not taking advantage of me. All she wants is to treat me to nice things.

I can live with that.

When the waiter comes, we order a bottle of wine. Conversation flows easily. We talk about where we grew up, how she was bounced around from foster home to foster home. I tell her about my siblings, my parents in Florida, taking care of my abuela. I wish I could spend more time with them, but I know Boston isn’t the right place for them.

She tells me about her and Carter, how they stuck together throughout their early adulthood. The one thing she doesn’t mention is me and Carter together. I don’t blame her. I don’t want to think about it. Nor do I want to remember a time when I was with anyone else.

Riley’s my present. She’s my future. The past isn’t important; we’ve grown from there.

The food is good. The wine is fine. But there’s something missing. I don’t need fancy dinners. I don’t need this. All I want is Riley, to spend time with her, to enjoy her company.

But maybe she needs this. An outlet outside of our kid, a chance to get dressed up and feel like a grown-up. I leave the house every day for work. She doesn’t get the same opportunity.

Maybe now that she’s taken the first step of getting a babysitter for a night out, she’ll be open to having some more help so she has time to herself, too, before she burns out. Her happiness is my priority. I don’t want to do this without her, and I’ll do what it takes to prove how much I value her—as a coparent, and as a partner.