Page 67 of Must Love Dogs… and Hockey

“That’s very generous of you.”

I laugh. “That’s me.”

Luckily we have no trouble getting a taxi which makes its way through bumper-to-bumper Manhattan traffic to the restaurant.

“I’ve never been here,” Lilly says as we get out of the car at Piccolo. “This looks fancy.” She glances down at herself.

I know what she’s thinking. “You’re fine.” I set my hand on the small of her back to enter the eatery.

I called and made a reservation right after she agreed to have dinner. This is a popular place, but I got lucky and we’re shown to a table for two. She slides onto the banquette and I take the upholstered chair opposite her.

“This is the best thing on the menu.” I read off the description of the black linguine with lobster in a spicy tomato sauce.

“That sounds amazing.”

“You order it. I’ll get something else, and we can share again.”

“Are you sure?”

It’s one of my favorite dishes in the world, but I’m sure. “Yeah.” I look over the menu. I end up ordering veal scaloppini with artichoke hearts, blue cheese, and truffles.

We also get a bottle of Sangiovese, which the waiter pours into enormous glasses.

“This is lovely.” She catches her bottom lip between her teeth. “You’ve been taking me to all these nice places and I feel guilty.”

“Why?”

Her lips now press together briefly. “I can’t afford places like this these days.”

I don’t want to dismiss her feelings, but she really doesn’t need to feel guilty. I also don’t want to sound like I’m bragging about how much money I have. “Next time, you pay.”

One corner of her mouth hooks up in a wry smile. “Okay. Can’t wait to take you to McDonald’s!”

I laugh. “That’d be fine with me. I love a Big Mac.”

Lilly sips her wine, then holds up her glass. “I feel like we should be celebrating something.”

“More like drowning my sorrows.” I make a face.

“Uh-oh.” Her eyes soften. “What?”

I tell her about the power play and Coach’s dick move.

She bites her lip. “Is it possible it’s justified?”

“No!” I lower my voice. “No. I know I screwed up last game, but I don’t deserve that. It’s not like I haven’t been scoring.”

“Okay then, he’s just a twatwaffle.”

I choke on a laugh.

She leans closer across the table. “You’ve heard of karma?”

“Yeah.”

She nods knowingly. “He’ll get his.”

“Fuck, I hope so. I hope I can survive until it happens.”

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