“Nope,” I said, popping the p.
She glowered at me as she shut the door and jogged toward the field, leaving me as breathless as the day she’d punched me in the stomach.
And just as clueless as to what to do about it.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
RACHEL
“I hate when it rains,”my sister lamented from our couch, dropping her head back with a dramatic sigh.
“You hate when I let you order donuts and you have to sit in front of the TV and watch movies while I work this weekend? Sis, you’re breaking my heart.”
I laughed at her huff as I read through my article one more time. It had been a long time since something had been both so easy and hard as hell to write. There was so much I’d wanted to say about Silas, but I’d been afraid of how my tone would sound. I eyeballed what I’d written a million different ways until I was confident it didn’t sound like some fangirl who loved his ass in white pants.
Or someone who’d had a front-row seat to that asswithoutthe pants.
My sister was supposed to be at softball practice, but it had been canceled because of weather. We’d had that talk about choosing a sport the night after I’d had lunch with Silas, and she’d picked softball with no argument. I’d relaxed until she’d shown me the paper from her coach later that night, with all the fees for new uniforms and even a couple of team-building trips.It was great that I could drop one sport expense, but the increase for the one she kept didn’t feel like I’d saved anything.
I scrolled back through the article, honestly satisfied with how it had turned out. I’d reached out to Silas’s old manager in Washington, never thinking that I’d hear from him on such short notice, but he’d sent an email a couple hours later with effusive words of praise for his former shortstop that I was able to weave in.
The Bats’ management was so thrilled he was here, Kent reiterating how Silas was such a great player and the fans would “eat him up,” when I’d chatted with him. The women would too, I was sure. But that was none of my concern—or shouldn’t have been whenever I thought of women throwing themselves at him at every game. It was none of my business and shouldn’t have made my hands ball into fists each time it crossed my mind.
The Brooklyn Bats had an attractive roster, as my sister had pointed out when she’d given me a rundown of the players she’d known. But Silas was more than just a hot team manager. He was young enough to pull off that sinfully cocky smile, but the touch of gray at his temples and the crinkles around his eyes made him so attractive it was almost painful to look at him.
He’d confessed feeling like he was past his prime, but nothing was further from the truth. He missed his old job, but I was sure he’d not only be embraced by fans, but he’d be an amazing manager.
I’d done plenty of research on Silas and how he’d been team captain at such a young age. There was no way he wouldn’t be a great leader, and I’d had enough recovery time from all the orgasms he’d given me that first night to say that—sort of—objectively.
“How many chapters have you written? You’ve been sitting there forever,” Taylor whined. “I saved you a Nutella donut.”
“This isn’t a book. It’s for the day job. The article on Silas.”
I smiled when her gasp traveled all the way to my corner of the living room.
“Can I see?”
“When it posts,” I told her, laughing when her lip jutted out in a pout.
Gayle wasn’t expecting the article until Monday, so I had time to read it over again…or send it to Silas like I’d offered.
I pushed away from my desk, the wheels on my chair sending me back about a foot as I eyed my phone. He’d said we were friends, and this PR campaign was making him uneasy. Why not show him the article?
He had paid for a cab for me to go home and had given me his sweatshirt—a sweatshirt I still hadn’t washed so I could bury my face into it when my sister wasn’t around, letting his fading scent bring back all those memories I could only relive in the forbidden corners of my mind.
God, I was so pathetic.
Before I lost my nerve, I rolled myself forward, pulled up my email, attached the article, and sent it to his email address.
Me:Hey! Article draft is done. I just sent it over so you could have a peek.
“It must have been so cool to talk to him.” My sister giggled as I settled next to her, clutching my phone in my hand and totally not anticipating a response. I should have just emailed it and waited for his reply without giving him a text heads-up. But maybe he didn’t check his email all the time, especially at night.
And maybe I needed better excuses.
“It was. He’s a nice guy,” I said, stretching my legs as I lounged back. My grandmother had had a plastic-covered gold couch that held a lot of memories but was uncomfortable as hell, especially in the summer. It had taken me a long time to finallyreplace it after she was gone. I’d kept the couch longer than I wanted to as a way to introduce Taylor to a grandmother she’d never known but who would have adored her as much as I did. I kept a pillow from the old couch, even though it stuck out in our living room because it didn’t go with anything.
I missed my grandmother every day, and although she’d been gone for a long time, sometimes a memory would sneak up and knock the wind out of me. When I’d lost her, I realized how alone I was in this world. I’d soon had a kid to take care of and didn’t have much—if any—free time alone, but the loneliness never wavered. Thankfully, taking care of Taylor had kept me busy enough over the years to limit any extra time to think.
