Page 69 of The Coach

I tilt my head, considering. “Alright. What’s the worst first date you’ve ever been on?”

She groans, covering her face with her hands. “Oh my god.”

I grin. “That bad?”

She peeks at me between her fingers. “You don’t even know.”

I lean forward, elbows on the table. “Oh, I plan to.”

She sighs, dropping her hands. “Alright, fine. It was with a guy who, five minutes into dinner, started calling me ‘wifey.’”

I choke on my water. “No. No way.”

She nods solemnly. “And then—this is the best part—he reached across the table, took my hand, and told me he could ‘feel our souls intertwining.’”

I slap a hand over my mouth, trying not to lose it. “Please tell me you ran.”

She grins. “Oh, absolutely. Right after he asked if I’d be open to a joint bank account.”

I bark out a laugh. “Jesus Christ.”

She sighs dramatically, placing a hand on her chest. “So yeah. The bar is incredibly low, Jackson.”

I shake my head, smiling. “Noted.”

I’m still grinning when our server sets the soup in front of Ivy, along with the appetizers.

She takes her spoon, dipping it into the rich broth, blowing on it gently before taking a careful sip.

Her eyes go wide.

I raise a brow. “Life-changing?”

She groans, nodding. “Oh my God. This is unfair. I can never eat regular soup again.”

I smirk. “Told you.”

She takes another sip, savoring it, before setting the spoon down and leaning back in her chair.

Her expression shifts.

Not bad, exactly. But…different.

More serious.

She looks at me, like she’s trying to read something in my face.

I set down my fork, my stomach tightening. “What?”

She hesitates. Then:

“Are you okay?”

I blink, caught off guard. “…What?”

She tilts her head. “This is kind of a big night for you.”

A humorless laugh leaves my lips. “You could say that.”

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