Page 68 of The Coach

We sit in silence for a few moments, until Lena returns, placing our drinks in front of us.

“Any appetizers?” she asks, pen poised.

I glance across the table. “What looks good to you?”

Ivy’s eyes light up a little as she scans the menu. “Ooh! I’ve never had escargot.”

I widen my eyes, grinning despite myself. “Never. Like never ever?”

She shakes her head, a little sheepish. “Nope. I mean, I’ve heard people rave about it, but I’ve just never had the chance.”

I lean forward, brow raised. “So, you’re telling me I have the honor of being here for your very first escargot experience?”

She smirks. “It appears so.”

I turn to Lena. “We’ll take an order of escargot, please. And make it special—it’s a first-time situation.”

Lena laughs, writing it down. “Got it. I’ll make sure the chef knows it’s a big moment.”

She walks away, and Ivy glances back at the menu, flipping the page.

A second later, her brows shoot up.

“Thirty-two dollars for a bowl of French onion soup?” She lets out a low whistle. “Damn. This soup better change my life.”

I chuckle. “Get whatever you want.”

She raises an eyebrow. “You sure? What if I start ordering the most expensive thing on the menu?”

I just shrug. “Go for it.”

She studies me for a second, like she’s testing me.

Then, she flips back to the menu, tapping a finger on the page. “Fine. I’m getting the soup. And maybe… the truffle risotto.”

I nod. “Good choice. I’ll have the ribeye, medium rare. Thank you, Lena.”

She sighs, leaning her elbow on the table, chin in her hand, studying me.

“I still can’t figure you out.”

I smirk, swirling the condensation on my water glass with my thumb. “What do you want to know?”

She shrugs, playing it casual. “I don’t know. I’ll let you know when I think of it.”

I chuckle. “That’s how we’re doing this? You just drop a comment like that and then make me wait?”

Her lips curve slightly. “Exactly.”

I lean back in my chair, studying her right back. “Fine. Two can play that game.”

Her brows lift. “Oh, so now you’re intrigued by me?”

I scoff. “Intrigued? You showed up out of nowhere, told me I’m going to be a father, and ordered a thirty-two-dollar bowl of soup. Yeah, Ivy, I’d say I have a few questions.”

She laughs, and damn if it isn’t the best sound I’ve heard all day.

“Okay, Coach,” she says, taking a sip of her ginger ale. “Hit me with your best shot.”

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