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Ronan
As I stared into the mirror, adjusting my shirt collar for the fourth time, a horde of butterflies fluttered around in my stomach. While I prepared for dinner with Tyler, I second-guessed everything from my outfit to my hairstyle. I wanted to make an ideal impression and show him I was more than a random billionaire who stumbled into his life.
Tilting my head to the left, I considered whether the deep navy blue blazer was too formal or whether I should choose something more casual.
When I next checked the time on my phone, I realized I'd spent almost half an hour just deciding on shoes. My sleek, Italian leather loafers would appear sophisticated, but my trendy sneakers might signal laidback and approachable. I settled on the loafers.
As I ran my fingers through my meticulously groomed mid-length head of brown hair, I debated whether slightly tousled made me appear effortlessly cool. I wanted to avoid coming across as trying too hard, but I couldn't risk looking sloppy either.
An array of grooming products—beard oil, hair pomade, cologne—littered the granite countertop in the hotel bathroom. I'd never been this anxious before a high-stakes meeting or a glamorous social event, but the stakes felt higher. I hoped to impress and connect with Tyler on a deeper level.
With a final glance in the mirror, I adjusted my platinum cufflinks. They were my subtle nod to my financial success, and I hoped Tyler might appreciate their understated elegance. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my pounding heart. If I could handle Silicon Valley, surely I could handle dinner in Blue Harbor with a man who made my pulse race and my palms sweat, right?
A buzz of adrenaline coursed through my veins as I left my hotel suite. When I reached the elevator, the polished wood paneling reflected my anxious expression back at me. While the descent only took seconds, multiple thoughts about Tyler and what might happen ran through my mind. When the elevator door opened, I took a deep breath and focused on putting one step in front of the other.
The Grand Harbor Hotel lobby was a mix of Old World elegance and Great Lakes charm. A large chandelier cast soft light around the space, and a personable receptionist smiled and nodded at me.
A broad arch decked out in navy blue and white fabric marked the entrance to the hotel's attached restaurant. Dark wood furnishings and candlelit tables elevated the space. The aromas of freshly baked bread and grilled seafood made my stomach growl. Before the host could reach me, I spotted Tyler in a corner booth.
The flickering candlelight cast shadows that highlighted his chiseled facial features. The windows to one side of him looked out over the moonlit harbor, where boats rode swells up and down in the distance. It was a tremendously romantic setting, the kind where people in movies would either propose or confess to serial crimes.
As I drew closer, Tyler looked down and fiddled with his napkin. When I was only a few steps away, he looked up and smiled broadly.
"Ronan! You made it, and you're looking sharp." He stood and offered a hand to shake.
I chuckled, enjoying his warm, firm grip. "And you're no slouch either. I hope it took you less time than me to sort out what you wore."
A mischievous sparkle appeared in Tyler's eyes. "I just threw on the first thing I found draped over the chair in the bedroom. Fortunately, it was clean, and it wasn't too horribly wrinkled."
I paused, unsure of the truth in the comment, but he knew how to rock a button-down. He signaled for the server and leaned forward. "Seriously, I'm so glad we could get together tonight."
After we ordered our drinks—a glass of pinot noir for me and a local microbrew for Tyler—we started to chat. He hit the ground running on baseball, following up on the random facts I'd tossed out at the game.
"Your Ted Williams insight was fascinating. Did you know they played the first recorded baseball game in the U.S. in 1846?" I watched his eyes light up when he continued. "The Knickerbocker Club teed off against a team of cricket players in Hoboken, New Jersey."
I leaned forward. "That's a fascinating fact. So, cricket came before baseball? I didn't know that."
Tyler enthusiastically nodded. "Yep, baseball evolved from several older games. Rounders was another."
"Never heard of that one. It's amazing how it turned into the game we have today."
Tyler continued to dive into baseball's past eagerly. "And did you know about the 1919 Black Sox Scandal involving the Chicago White Sox? T/hey accused eight players of throwing the World Series in exchange for payoffs from high-rolling gamblers."
I raised my index finger. "I did see that movie—John Cusack, right? Eight Men Out?"
Tyler chuckled and nodded. "And then there's Babe Ruth, the incredible home run king. His 60 home runs in one season was a record that stood for almost 35 years. Some people think he saved baseball."
While Tyler continued, I found his depth of knowledge impressive and his eagerness to share endearing, but I struggled to keep up. It was a bit like trying to follow a conversation between two astrophysicists while having little more than a third-grade understanding of the solar system."
Finally, I raised my hands in surrender. "Okay, yeah, you've exposed me. I can't compete with your knowledge of baseball history."
Tyler stopped talking in the middle of a sentence. "Oh, man, sorry. I didn't mean to go on and on. It's not the first time. People tell me I can get a little carried away. It's just that baseball and history kind of feed on each other."
I smiled and took another sip of wine. "No need for apologies. It's fantastic to see somebody who loves their work so much. Both topics are interesting to me, too, but I need to absorb it in small chunks."
"Understood." Tyler downed a mouthful of beer. "Baseball's been a huge part of my life since I was a little kid. Dad and I used to spend hours watching games together, and he told me stories about great players of the past. That's how I got into history, too."
I leaned forward. "Yeah? That's fascinating. Your interest in baseball led you to study history?"
