At the reception, we sat at the same table as Mike and Natalie, Dylan and Keith and their dates. When the music started, I pulled Abe out onto the dance floor. I almost giggled at all these huge men, so graceful and powerful on the field, and some of them without a clue how to dance.

Briana was a good dancer. Natalie was graceful. Rachael was the same level of bad as me, which meant we bobbed around with Bri's teenage sisters and sang the words to songs loud and off-key. Rachael smiled at me approvingly. "Oh, you're not bad. You can come to karaoke night."

"Are you kidding me? I can't hold a tune!"

She threw back her head and laughed. "But you're singing anyways, and that's the whole point of karaoke."

At the first slow dance, Abe whirled me away from the others. I leaned my head against his chest. "I like your friends."

"You mean the crazy girls?"

"Yeah. They're fun. I like the guys, too, but they're usually a little aware I'm a reporter." I pulled my head up, remembering something. "A few weeks ago, I was asking some of the guys about pregame rituals."

He spun me out under his arm, and then back into his embrace. "Were you?"

"Yes. And they had something very funny to say about yours." I tilted my head up. "That before each game, you get fined for wearing a bracelet."

A warm, teasing smile lit his face. "That's right."

Bubbles started filling my chest. "And why do you do it?"

His hands were warm on the small of my back, and they swayed me back and forth in small circles as we flowed across the dance floor. "Well, you see, this girl made me a bracelet once."

"A bracelet that girl may have once seen abandoned on your mother's desk. What suddenly made it important?"

He outright grinned. "That may be right. But, you know, this girl had guts. And belief. She believed in me more than anyone else ever did, and she put herself out there. Bravest person I ever met, especially at a time when I needed to be brave."

I stopped dancing, but we remained in the middle of all the other couples. I tilted my face up, almost close enough to kiss. "What does that mean?"

He was serious but not without humor. "It means I was moving across the country to a miserably cold city where I had no friends and everyone seemed together, and I was a clueless rookie on a team with legends. I needed to remember that someone believed in me. That someone had the courage to go after what she wanted, and that I needed to do the same."

I dropped the pronoun. "I didn't know that's how you viewed it."

"Tamar." He brushed his lips against mine. "You've always been the most amazing person I know."

I leaned my head back against his chest. I wasn't sure if that was true.

But he'd kept my bracelet. That had to count for something.

Chapter Eighteen.

That Thursday, before I'd really registered it, it was Thanksgiving.

And the Leopards weren't playing, like they had two years ago. And neither of our families were celebrating out of town.

Which meant that Abe and I would both be in Burlingame, at Thanksgiving dinner, together.

I met him for lunch on Tuesday. It was the one day he had off from practice, and it was also the least busy of my week; deadline wasn't yet upon us, and we'd caught up from the weekend work the day before. Well, at least in theory. In practice, this week was a little busier as so many of us would be out of the office.

Still, I stole away for half an hour with Abe.

We met at a Lenny's nearby, and he graciously bought my bagel. I watched with a smile. "What a gentleman."

He delivered it with a flourish. "I live to serve."

I raised my brows and ran my foot up his leg, and was delighted when his eyes darkened.

But then he dealt me a firm, we-need-to-have-a-discussion look. "Okay. What are we going to do about our parents?"

I smeared the cream cheese across my poppy-seed halves. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I talked to my mom last night."

"Yeah?"

"She wanted to set me up with Jenna Perlman's cousin."

"Jenna Perlman from schul? No way. She used to hog all the cookies."

He sounded amused. "Well, it would be her cousin, not her."

"If she's anything like Jenna, you wouldn't get along." I noticed the pointed look he aimed my way. "What?"

"You have to tell your mom, or I'm telling mine."

The idea of telling my mother hit me like an impossibility to be avoided at all costs. "Abe."

"I know. But we have to."

"We do not."

He raised his brows. "We're just never going to tell them?"

"Abraham. They will have the temple booked and the invitations out within the week. Worse, my mom is going to have opinions."

He laughed down at me. "What does that mean?"

I waved a hand expressively. "You know. About how we interact. She'll be like, 'Well, Abe never empties the dishwasher, so be prepared to empty it for the rest of your life.'"

His brow scrunched up. "What does that even mean? I do too empty the dishwasher."

"No." I shook my head emphatically. "You don't. Never have. I know it. Your mother knows it. My mother knows it."

His eyes widened and flickered in thought. "I don't believe you. I...do do the dishes."

I placed an appeasing hand on his. "That is true. You simply don't empty it. It's okay, I don't mind. Yet. I just mind hearing about it from my mother."

He groaned. "Well, my mom's going to want to know if you're pregnant, so there's that."

"Mazel tov," I muttered.

He leaned in and braced his elbows on the table. I mirrored him, and our knees bumped each other, our foreheads bent close. "Okay. We gotta have a plan."

"I have a plan."

"Yeah?" His brows rose. "Which is...?"

"We wait at least one week."

"And why's that?"

Boys. "You do realize that for the next several days we will be at the mercy of our families." I stretched my arms above my head. "And I can't think of much worse than the combined forces of our mothers in matrimonial fever."

We landed in SFX at three-fifteen, Pacific Time. I liked the Millbrae airport because there were always dogs in it. And, okay, those dogs were German Shepherds trained to sniff out bombs and stuff, but still. Giant puppies! It always felt calmer in SFX than it did in JFK.

Also, we had palm trees.

Abe lifted my carry-on down from storage, and then shouldered his duffel bag. We slowly started shambling down the aisle and then up the connector. I summoned my sternest look. "Okay. From here on out, we play it safe."

He delivered an absolutely bone-melting grin. "I never make safe plays."

That alarmed me slightly. "Now you do."

"Oh, I think we have it good until we're on the other side of security. Until then, I don't think I have to play it safe at all."

I frowned at his mischievous expression. "Abraham-"

His duffel bag landed on the floor with a resounding thump. Streams of people parted and closed around us as he stopped and took my face in his hands. His eyes were light and heat and all the stars so far away. "Unless you want safe?"

Mutely, I shook my head. My eyes drifted shut.

He kissed me until the heat had spiraled out of control, and then, when I thought I might spontaneously combust-or that the airport guards might wrench us apart before we crossed the line of public decency-he raised his hands from my body and stepped back. A satisfied grin crossed his face. "There. Now I won't touch you for the rest of the week."

I tried to swallow, so turned on I found it difficult to think. "Well...I'm not sure..."

He laughed, scooped up his duffel and started on his way.

Damn him. With my carry-on trailing behind me, I followed. We passed through the security gate and out into the open, and headed down to baggage claim. We hadn't checked any luggage, so we stepped outside.

I sucked in a breath at the familiar balmy weather. It was somewhere in the mid-sixties, which wasn't unheard of in New York this time of year-but seemed to be a rare and somewhat miraculous occurrence. Here, our weather stayed level-sane, if you will-and every afternoon the fog would burn off and leave the skies sunny.

Since my dad was scheduled to pick us up, I shot him a text, and felt warmth grow in my chest when the familiar old Prius rounded the corner. We crossed the lane to the passenger car pickup line, and it came to a pause before us.

To my surprise, the passenger door opened and Abe's dad came out. Abe let out a whoop and hugged him. They were about the same height, though Abe had more hair and muscle.

Mr. Krasner let go of his son after a moment and smiled my way, folding me into a softer embrace. "Hi, Tammy. How's it going?"

"I'm good, thanks." Still surprised at this turn of events, I blinked and smiled in befuddlement for a moment before my own dad came out from around the driver's side. "Daddy!"

He hugged me tightly, and I could've sworn I saw a hint of tears in his eyes. "How's my tough New Yorker?"

"I'm great. I missed you." I hadn't really realized it until now, but there it was.

Dad opened up the back and loaded in our things, while Mr. Krasner smiled at us. "So. Surprise! We thought we'd all go out for dinner. Your mothers have all gone ahead."

We sat in the backseat of the car. I felt like I'd fallen through time and we were teenagers all over again, except this time Abe really didn't fit in the backseat.

We headed to Green's for dinner. Located on the waterfront, it served some of the best fare in San Francisco, and God, I was glad to have it.

Don't get me wrong. I liked New York food. New York food was fine. I didn't even have a problem with their pizza, despite them having some overplayed grievance with ours. (I figured it was part of the New York mentality to enjoy having grievances.) But there was nothing like sitting down at one of Alice Waters's restaurants, and the delicate, fresh tastes of her entrees. Butternut squash and goat cheese and quinoa, pumpkin seed cilantro salsa... Mom had mesquite-grilled brochettes, and we all split polenta with herb butter. My taste buds could die and leave my tongue senseless, and I would be happy.

Of course, after my mom finished grilling me about every new roommate and job development, she had to go and ask, "Met any interesting boys?"

Abe turned to me brightly with brows lifted. The corners of his lips rose with ill-concealed entertainment.

I directed disapproval at my mother. "Mom."

She gestured widely with her fork. "What? They don't mind."

Abe propped his chin in his hand and gave me Bambi-eyes. "Well."

"I'm doing fine," I said repressively.

Sharon, thank God, saved me. "I think it's wonderful that you're out there, pursuing your dream."

"Thanks."

"And you?" Abe's dad said to his son. "You're being good? Showing her the sights?"

I almost choked on my cube of squash. Oh, yes. All the sights.

Abe smiled brightly. "Giving her all the best tours."

Oh my God, this was so awkward and they didn't even know it.

The rest of dinner went as well as could be expected when you're engaged in a clandestine relationship that you're attempting to keep from two sets of parents, and I gave a sigh of relief when it was over. I didn't like separating from Abe, bidding him good night like I didn't wish I could climb into bed beside him, but we pulled it off. He squeezed my hand quickly, and then we were in different cars headed back to the same town.