“Of course they do. You’retheGrant Davenport. You’re not just some stuffy businessman who owns a baseball club. You were one of the best pitchers to take the mound at the time and were racking up pitching accolades. Had it not been for your injury, you probably would’ve played well into your thirties.”
I bury my head in her neck. “I don’t know about that. My arm was tired.”
Taylor scratches her fingers into my hair and rubs my neck. “I still think you should hang out in the dugout. It’ll be good for morale. It’ll be good for you. Look at what you’ve done in just a short amount of time. You started a team in the middle of a global pandemic. You traded that same year for two of the biggest names in baseball—two veterans who had been with the Tampa Tides for years, were their franchise players, and would probably have stayed there for most of their career, if not their entire career. Then, the next year, you gottheCoach Mike Crenshaw, who not only wasyourcoach once upon a time, but one of the most respected coaches in the league, and he came to your team because you called. In the Troubadours third season, they secured a Wild Card spot, and now look. The Troubadours are leading the division, you have home-field advantage, and baby, we’re going to the championship. We’re going all the way, and I think you should be there on the field with the team. Take Ben, he should be down there too. Be there with the guys, give it your all, and I’ll be in the stands cheering you on.”
“I miss having you in the stands for me.” I kiss her shoulder and release her to get dressed.
“I’ll be in the stands for you any day. Just like old times.”
“Will you wear my jersey too?” I ask, looking over my shoulder at her as I walk to the closet.
“You know, funny you should say that because I saw that you have a number 15 Grant Davenport Troubadour jersey. That must be a limited edition run because it’s not in the store, and I can’t get it made anywhere.”
“Lucky for you, I know a guy.”
“Are you the guy you know?” She scrunches her nose at me adorably when I hold up the extra jersey.
“Yeah baby, I’m the guy. You wanna wear my name on your back?”
“I guess legally it arguably is mine as well.” Taylor shrugs a shoulder with a teasing glint in her eye
“Tay baby, you didn’t take my name.” I open the jersey for her to put it on. “If I remember correctly, it was something like ‘I’m making a name for myself in my own right, and everyone’s going to know who Taylor fucking Baker is. Not to mention I’m not sharing a name with your hag of a mother.’”
She slides her arms into the sleeves and lifts her hair so I can fit it over her shoulders. Peering back at me, she says, “Okay, well the hag of a mother part was probably not great of me, but the rest stands.”
“And everybody knows who Taylor motherfucking Baker is.” I smooth the fabric down, taking in the way it hangs off her slim frame.
“They sure do.” She pecks a kiss to my lips and saunters into the bathroom. “I’m happy to have you on my team though.”
“We make a good team, don’t we?” I turn back to the closet and drag my other jersey off the hanger and put it on as she comes back out.
“We sure do. You ready to get going?” she asks, tucking lip gloss into her bag.
Nodding, I follow her down the hall and lock up. “Yeah, I don’t want to be late.”
When we get in the car, I ask Taylor something I’ve beenthinking about for a few days. “So I was thinking game three is in New York next week. How do you feel about taking the girls and we can pack up your place while we’re there?”
“Have you been reading my mind again?”
“I don’t know that I would want to do that.”
“It’s a fun place to be. I don’t know why you wouldn’t.”
“Does that mean you’re ready to move your stuff out of your place?”
“Why yes it does. I think it’s a great idea. We can fly the girls up with us for the game and we can pack up my place and then bring whatever I want to bring back with us, or hire a company to drive it down depending on how much stuff there is.”
“And maybe I can meet the infamous Allie.” I squeeze her hand referencing the assistant I’ve heard so much about but have yet to meet.
“Oh my God, she would love to meet you. She might actually die.”
When we get to the stadium, I park and we walk hand-in-hand to the clubhouse before going our separate ways. I make my way to the locker room and Taylor heads upstairs to meet the girls.
“Who’s excited?” I sing as I take my seat with Ivory and Gabby. We’re all anxious for the game to start and hopeful that it’ll be a deep postseason run after all the work the guys have put in this year, but baseball is unpredictable.
Luckily, the first two games of this best-of-five series are in Nashville and the Troubadours have proven they are unstoppable at home. Some fans arrived early to watch warm-ups, but otherwise the stands are still fairly empty.
“Is Grant sitting with us today?” Gabby asks, holding out a drink for me.
