* * *
“Tough luck.”Bonnie says with a frown. “I thought for sure the Hawks would be able to come back and win.”
“Not this time.” Unfortunately. We’re a game and a half out of first place in our division. We need to win every series from here on out if we have any chance at the playoffs.
“Thanks again for the tickets, Hudson.”
I smile at Bonnie, then at Carl. “You’re welcome.”
“I’m sorry about Willa.”
She left in the seventh inning. She claimed she had to use the restroom, but she didn’t return. Bonnie and I both got a text message that said she wasn’t feeling well. After which, Bonnie moved over into the seat next to mine and scowled. “What’d you do? Because I know you did something.”
“I––” Her question and candor were unexpected.
“Did you break up with her? Because as appreciative as I am about the baseball tickets, if you hurt her, I’m going to hurt you way worse.” Her voice got deep and growly at the end. For such a small person, she’s quite intimidating.
“No. I didn’t break up with her.” We’d have to be dating for that to happen, but something tells me to keep those words to myself.
“You must’ve done something. When you got back from your little tete-a-tete earlier, she was pissed. I know Willa. I know when she’s pissed.”
Jesus. I’m just going to say it. “I told her I’m part owner of the team.”
Bonnie’s mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. “Thisteam?” She squeaks as she uses her thumb to gesture to the field.
“Yes, this team.”
“She had no idea?”
“No.”
“Can I ask you something, Hudson?”
I nod in affirmation.
“Do you like Willa?”
“Yes.”
“I mean really like her? Like you could picture yourself with her? For real?”
“Yes.”
“Can you see yourself marrying her?”
Wow. She doesn’t hold back. “I haven’t thought that far ahead.” That’s a lie. “But I like her. She’s different.”
Bonnie snorts. “I sure as shit hope you didn’t tell her that.” She clears her throat and repeats my words in a fake deep voice. “I like you, Willa. You’re different.”
“I haven’t said anything of the sort.”
“Because, generally, women don’t like to have guys tell them they’re ‘different’. They want to hear they’re beautiful, sexy, that sort of thing.”
“Jesus, Bonnie. I know.” I’m starting to feel like the time in middle school I got caught having Molly Braydon write my English paper because I had a game and no time to write it.
“They also like to hear if you own an effing baseball team.”
I know. “She knows now.”
