Turning my attention to Chase, I move on with my instructions. “And Chase, they’re probably going to ask you about your suspension. Just be honest and sincere. You handled it well in the press conference, so this is no different. They may also bring up Bark in the Park. Do you need a refresh on the numbers or do you have everything?”
“A refresh would be good,” he responds.
“We raised half-a-million dollars for your charity and the local animal rescues. You satisfied all the requirements of your plea agreement. Your charity is set up and you’re looking forward to working with the animal rescues in the city for the long-term.”
Chase nods. “Sounds good.”
“Alright, well I have complete faith in you. Don’t fuck it up and have fun.” I slap them both on the bum and walk away.
“We’re going to the postseason, so this is a walk in the park,” Miller calls after me.
I leave them on the field and join Ivory and Gabby in our seats behind home plate. We love watching from here, in the middle of all the chaos, but also because it has the best views of the diamond.
The game starts, and though I can’t hear what Miller and Chase are saying, it’s clear by the smiles on their faces that they’re having a great time and joking around. When Miller bats and makes it to first base, his mouth is constantly running, so I assume he’s either talking shit to the first baseman, which is entirely probable, or he and Chase are in a full conversation while the announcers listen in.
Chase hits the ball and Miller advances to second base. When Preston steps into the batter’s box, Miller takes a giant lead. Chase is known for stealing bases, but he can’t steal secondunless Miller steals third. Miller cups his hands over his mouth and shouts at Preston, who shakes his head and gets back into his stance. Both Miller and Chase take a deep lead off their bases and start running as soon as the bat connects with the ball. Ivory screams for Preston as the ball falls just short of the outfield wall.
“Run!” Gabby and I yell at the same time, watching as Miller rounds third base and Chase rounds second. They’re both shouting at each other as Chase rounds third, gaining on Miller who looks back over his shoulder and quickly slides across home plate. Chase crosses the plate seconds before the catcher swipes his glove.
The stadium erupts in a roar, everyone celebrating the two-run RBI and the Troubadours lead. Miller and Chase celebrate, and then Chase turns to send a kiss to Gabby. The way he always does something for her when he scores makes me smile. She turns around and shows him the special order jersey she had made that hadn’t arrived in time for a big reveal on Friday night. From the details she spilled yesterday, the sexy lingerie the other night was a huge success, so I can only imagine the trouble they’ll get into tonight with her wearing his jersey.
It’s the top of the ninth when I noticed that Grant is in the dugout, not in the owner’s box. He’s leaning on the half-wall talking to the guys, wearing jeans and a Troubadours jersey with the number fifteen on the back—the same number he wore when he pitched for New York.
He’s smiling and joking around with the team, and I love that he’s down there with them instead of sitting in the owner’s box by himself. Going to the postseason for the second year in a row and so close to winning it all in only their fourth season is astounding. He should be really proud, and I wish that I was able to celebrate with him out in public tonight the same way Gabby does when the game is over and she runs onto the field jumping into Chase’s arms.
“Well that’s a public declaration if I’ve ever seen one,” Ivorysays, running down to the field as well. She runs directly to Preston, who picks her up and spins her around.
Right before I pass the dugout, I’m snagged around the wrist, pulled down the stairs and around the corner. Grant slams his mouth onto mine. We have our own mini celebration before I have to go out onto the field and celebrate with my friends.
I’m distracted from watching my wife drink her coffee by the pinging sounds coming from our cell phones on the table. After the Troubadours won our last regular season game last night and celebrated getting to play October baseball, Taylor and I came back home and celebrated on our own over and over and over again. I’m well and truly exhausted in the best way, but hearing her tell me how proud she was of me and watching her show me exactly how much was worth it.
Grimacing when the chime sounds again, I look at her and ask, “Who is texting both of us so much?”
She laughs and pecks a kiss to my lips before leaning forward and grabbing both our phones. Chucking mine onto my lap, she unlocks her phone and starts reading the texts.
“It’s the group chat.”
“Why am I still in this group chat?” I groan. Miller had added me last week after Gabby’s biopsy. I was glad to know how she was doing, but I didn’t need to be in the family group chat. I wasn’t part of the family, and Miller’s stupid texts were the worst.
“You love it. Stop lying to yourself.” Taylor rolls her eyes and begins typing on her phone. Begrudgingly, I open the text chat and read what I’ve missed.
IVORY
End of season BBQ at our house.
MILLER
End of season? Whose season is over?
CHASE
Not ours!
PRESTON
The regular season is over, Hollywood. We’re still playing this to the end.
MIKE
