Chapter 1
Kenzie
Tempting fate is not my favorite, andthisis the reason why. I should be having a relaxing bachelorette dinner at a rooftop restaurant a few blocks away, blissfully staring at the ocean while stuffing my face with sashimi. Instead, a camera is in my face, projecting my shocked expression on the jumbotron. The WAGs—Wives and Girlfriends—on either side of me make kissy faces and contort their lithe bodies into all the right angles, but I can only freeze—old acne scars prominent on the massive LED screen across the baseball diamond.
You’d think that after becoming newly engaged to the Virginia Beach Waves’ starting pitcher, Aaron Lawson, I’d be used to stuff like this. You’d think I’d have been to my share of games, that my position in the family section of the Waves stadiumwould be as comfortable as a favorite sweatshirt, but no. I always watch the games but have a very good reason for not attending in person. Had these Pilates goddesses not strong-armed me into this seat seconds ago, I wouldn’t be here.
“Smile,” Mallory says through glistening white teeth, her tone encouraging.
I try to lift my lips into a grin, but the panic sprinting through my veins prevents it. See, here’s the thing. My fiancé—wow, that word is stillso weird—doesn’t like any distractions during his games. And we’re definitely making a scene during this brief between-innings break. I mean, there’s also a goofy mascot race happening on the field, but no one is paying attention to that.
Nope. No one.
All eyes are on us, or ratherme.
With my simple white tee and shorts, I’m woefully unprepared to be in the spotlight. The only thing giving me a little sparkle besides my ring is theBride to Besash Mallory insisted I wear.
“Let’s see the ring!” the cameraman shouts over the din.
When I hesitate, Mallory grabs my hand and lifts it up like I won a champion boxing match. The camera lens zooms in, and the shouts of the crowd quickly overpower the sloshing of blood in my ears. I’m vaguely aware of the announcer telling the crowd my name.
I completely understand that any normal bride-to-be would be ecstatic about this outpouring of interest, but when Aaronand I first started dating, he told me he prized his privacy above everything else. That’s why his personal chef made us meals to enjoy in his oceanside mansion instead of going out. His social media is exclusively baseball related, so it didn’t make sense to include photos of me, even after he slid a six-carat diamond on my finger.
And to be honest, I didn’t mind. I’m more of a homebody anyway. With my paltry dating experience, receiving weekly roses and the dailyGood morningtexts seemed worth keeping things to ourselves. For the first time in my life, I felt important—more than the quiet, studious one who was always,alwaysoverlooked.
Things were great.
But then, I slipped up.
Mallory—wife of third baseman Kai Sato—saw my sparkler during our video call discussing their family taxes and drilled me for details. Since moving to Virginia Beach, I’d become the unofficial team accountant. Not forthe team in a corporate sense, but I prepare and file the personal taxes for most of the starting lineup and several of the reserve players. Aaron had suggested Inot wearmy engagement ring during my virtual meetings with the rest of the players.
Once the news was out, Mallory insisted I have a bachelorette party tonight, even though Aaron and I don’t have anything official planned yet. Our whole relationship has been such a whirlwind. We’ve only been dating for nine months, but Aaronsaid he couldn’t wait any longer to spend the rest of his life with me.
I know,swoon.
My fiancé jogs up to the pitcher’s mound, turning to see my freckled fingers on the jumbotron. I probably should get a manicure now that I’m sporting this rock, but I hate the upkeep of polish since it always gets destroyed when I garden.
When Aaron just stares at the screen, his shoulders tightening, my skin itches as a flush creeps up my neck. If this overzealous cameraman doesn’t pull back soon, my face will be redder than the opposing team’s jerseys.
But then Aaron turns around with that smile—the one that melted my insides the first time he directed it at me. I thought the stadium had been loud before, but when Aaron waves in my direction, the ballpark explodes. I resist the urge to cover my ears as he ducks his face as if shy.
The gesture looks odd to me. My fiancé isn’t shy…or hesitant, or cautious, or any of the adjectives people often use to describe me. He takes up space, demands attention, andalwaysgets his way.
“Excellent,” Mallory says from beside me, her lips still set in a flawless smile.
With the crowd’s positive reaction and the bottom of the fourth about to start, the red light on the camera blinks off, and the man drops it from his shoulder.
“Thanks for that,” he says.
All I can manage is a semi-human grunt.
“Everything will be better now that it’s out in the open,” Mallory says, bumping my shoulder with hers. “You’ll see.”
Mallory might be pushier than the toughest drill sergeant, but she means well. Even when I was just her CPA, she’d always been kind. Then Mallory squealed for a solid ninety seconds once I finally caved and told her the truth about Aaron and me.
“If you say so,” I say meekly.
“Trust me.” This time, she wraps her arm around my shoulder. “These men might know what’s best for their game, but most of them don’t understand what makes a good marriage. A happy wife means a happy life.”
