She kisses me exactly like Gloria kisses Clyde after they win a round of cornhole.
It’s long and passionate and definitely veering into PG-13 territory as Brooke’s hands dive into my hair, rendering me powerless to do anything but hold her up with one hand and tilt her mouth to meet mine—like I’ve been dreaming about for the last twelve days or so.
A cacophony of catcalls, whistles, and cheers erupts in Tots, interrupting what I now realize is Brennan’s cringey rendition of “Shape of You.”
The ruckus is so like the night Brooke agreed to be my wife that I can’t help but feel a little nostalgic, yet we’ve come so far since that moment.
“Hello, wifey. I missed you,” I say, kissing Brooke’s perfect nose before setting her on her feet. “And I like your shirt.”
Hers is identical to Winnie’s and Danger’s in the Atlanta Hammer colors with my face in a diamond pattern, only Brooke’s has “There’s No Crying In Baseball” printed across the front.
“Thank you! Emory had them all printed for me. I have one for you, too,” she announces proudly, interlacing our fingers and dragging me to our friends, but then she whispers in my ear. “It says, ‘You People Are Guests In My Corn.’ I’ll wear it for you later… at home.”
Field of Dreams.
She gets me. It’s incredibly sexy. I’m ready to go now.
My parents and Gram—who also have matching shirts with varying quotes from baseball movies—greet Brooke and me, sandwiching us in hugs, and interrupting all thoughts of my wife, before my Badger teammates suddenly surround me in a parade of hugs, too—offering back- and butt-slaps of congratulations.
Titan’s first to pick me up in a bear hug with tears streaming down his face.
“Relief pitcher for the Atlanta Hammers,” he cries into my shoulder. “I can’t believe it. I’m so happy, and also so sad I won’t be catching for you anymore.”
I pat his back until he releases me. “Thanks, man. I’ll miss you, too.”
“It isn’t like he’s going far,” Drew interjects, shaking my hand. “You’re staying in the house and everything, right.”
“That’s right. For now.” I nod and wink at Brooke.
We prayed long and hard about whether Salt Lake was where we should be. But, in the end, we both just want to be near our families as long as possible. To raise our future baseball team with Jack and Dinah’s kids and Winnie’s, one day, too. So, for now, we’re settled for good in the house we chose together on Nectarine Drive with ourSuite Hearts’prize money tuckedaway as a future down payment on that bigger house we’ll need at some point. Hopefully sooner rather than later, if I have anything to say about it.
Breezy says a quick, “Knew you’d do it, buddy,” before he runs to the stage and hops into a duet with Sumer Morrison. They sing “You’re the One that I Want” like they’ve been practicing together for years. Breezy gets the whole crowd shouting and singing along, minus my brother and the newest tenants of one of his properties downtown.
“Hey, y’all,” I hug Ocean and Haven, who officially moved to town this past week and are due to open their new place, Nature’s Nectar, in a few months. Though I’m sincerely hoping they workshop the name.
Brooke has obviously already caught up with them, as she smiles wide like a cartoon character and whips out her phone to record the moment I’ve been waiting for.
“Have you met my brother, Jack?” I ask, slapping Jack on the back with aGo get ‘em, buddysort of attitude. I’m already suppressing my glee.
“Hey, I’m Jack Jones,” he says, reaching his hand out to shake Ocean’s. But, bless him, Jack does not expect it when Ocean grabs his hand and places a kiss on my brother’s knuckles before bringing both their hands to his bare chest, where he’s left his shirt unbuttoned to his navel.
It’s all very tender, though. I can’t imagine why Jack scowls the way he does.
Brooke’s barely stifling her giggles. Dinah and her sister, Emory, are just as guilty, both filming and holding back laughter with tears in their eyes.
Jack is clearly trying to remove himself from Ocean’s bare skin, but Ocean won’t have it. He clenches his hand all the firmer and grabs Jack’s shoulder with the other. “Brother,” he croons soulfully. “We are united in this moment.”
“I don’t think we are.” Jack rips his hand away, then rubs it on his jeans like he’s caught something contagious.
Dinah snorts, then covers her faux pas with a cough.
“Forever.” Haven nods, hands in prayer pose, before she brings them to her husband’s chest like she’s soaking in the exchange. “His energy is…”
“Soft,” they say in unison.
I hum in agreement, completely delighted. “Yes. I think so, too. Jack is a big ol’ softie.”
“Nope. Not doing this,” Jack growls. “I’m going home. Have fun, Polly. Congrats, bro.” He glares at me, kisses his wife, then stomps away, leaving the bar completely, and the rest of us, in hysterics.
