The inside walls of the elevator are all mirrors, and the floor is a light gray marble. Pressing the lobby button, I hold my breath as the doors open, and then I put my hand on her lower back to usher her out. She hasn’t dropped Dylan’s hand, and if she wasn’t with Dylan, I wonder if she would try to make a run for it.

I watch as her eyes take in the room, and I wonder what she’s thinking. Turning left when we get off the elevator, I walk past the security desk. He spots me and stands, showing you the uniform of a black jacket and white shirt. “Good evening, Mr. Stone.”

“Hey, Bob.” I smile at him. There are a total of six security agents who work during the week. “Nice day, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he says, and I just walk toward the glass door past the big round marble table that holds a vase of flowers with four chairs. It’s the waiting area. You don’t get past security if you are not on the list.

“Does that guy block people?” Dylan asks when we walk outside, and the heat hits me right away.

“Yeah,” I say. “The restaurant is just on the corner,” I say, turning to walk toward it.

“Why?” Dylan asks me.

“Why what?” We walk in sync, but I feel her stiffness next to me.

“Why does he block people from seeing you?” I love that he is so curious. He is always asking questions and always trying to figure out puzzles.

“Well, you know I play hockey, right?” I ask, and he nods. “Well, sometimes I don’t play good, and then you have people who want to come tell me that. I don’t mind if they tell me at the restaurant, but I don’t want them coming to my door.”

“And you don’t want to hear it.” He nods his head. “I would do the same.”

“Yeah, that’s it,” I say. I don’t tell him it’s because people push their limits and just decide it’s okay to knock on your door to get you to sign a shirt or a stick. It’s amazing that I’m being paid to do what I love, but there are times and places for that, and my home isn’t one of them. It’s a piece of me that no one gets to see unless I want them in my space.

“Here we are,” I say, pulling open the door, and the smell of pizza hits you right away.

A hostess stand is located right in front with a blonde and a brunette standing behind it. One of them notices me right away and perks up. “Hi there,” I say. “A table for three in the back if possible.”