I’ll have to take Mallory’s word on it since she and Kai have been happily married for eight years. But I don’t mention thatthisfuture wife would have been perfectly content eating sushi and staring at the ocean.
“Let’s go, Waves!” Mallory shouts, releasing me from her grip.
The bottom of the fourth gets off to a rocky start with Aaron walking the first hitter and then giving up a double to left field, putting runners on second and third with no outs. I lean forward, biting my thumbnail as a hush goes over the stadium. When Aaron walks a third player, the catcher, Trevor Chapman, approaches the mound, most of the infield following him.
Trevor is the reason any of this is even happening in the first place. He’s my former boss, turned client, turned unintentional roommate, turned matchmaker. It all started last February when I started pet-sitting Banks, his adorable calico cat, before spring training. Since Banks required a lot of medical attention, I would bring my laptop and work at Trevor’s house. I had tax forms strewn all over the place from a client who refused to e-file when Trevor came home from practice, inquiring about my day job. After minimizing how much he owed on taxes by deducting agent fees, training costs, and union dues, Trevor recommended me to his teammates. Since then, my virtual accounting business has exploded.
He also saved my bacon when my apartment flooded last April, insisting I stay in his spacious, always-empty guest wing while claiming that Banks liked me best anyway—well…not claiming. Banksone hundred percentlikes me best. And then, it was Trevor who hosted the Fourth of July party where Aaron first noticed me.
Come to think of it, Trevor is kind of like a fairy godfather. If fairy godfathers wore catcher’s masks and leg guards. Or rather, he’s my supportive older brother since he’s ten years older than me and always looking out for me.
My roommate glances my way, as do the rest of the infielders in the huddle. Mallory throws her arm over her head with an enthusiastic wave that would make Dolly Parton proud. She then elbows me until I offer my own, much smaller, version.Trevor and the rest of the guys smile, but Aaron’s lips are set in a firm line.
I know that line. That’s theyell at the valet because they adjusted the seat when parking the carline. That’s theI can’t believe the housecleaner left behind the mop againline. And this time, the line is directed at me.
A drop of sweat rolls down my spine.
The men cover their mouths with their gloves, talking for a few more seconds before returning to their positions. When Aaron pitches again, it’s a thing of beauty. A perfect curveball results in a strike. Then a slider, down and away for another strike, finishing with a change-up. Or at least that’s what the announcer tells us. All I see is the umpire making the strikeout gesture.
We all stand, screaming and jumping as the batter walks back to the dugout. After linking arms, we keep cheering as the Waves get two more outs—another strikeout for Aaron and a tag out at home by Trevor when the runner on third makes a break for it.
As the inning switches, I hug everyone. My cheeks hurt from smiling. Maybe Mallory was right about insisting we come to the game. It’s a lot of fun being here, cheering Aaron on and getting to know the other wives and girlfriends. For all the drama shown on WAG reality TV shows, these women have only been personable and welcoming.
“Does anyone want anything to drink?” I ask, needing a bottle of water after all that screaming.
“Diet Coke, please.” Amaya, one of the reserve players’ girlfriends, digs in her purse for her wallet.
I wave her off. “I’ve got it.”
I’m halfway to the concourse when Janessa intercepts me.
“Hey,” I say, giving Aaron’s personal assistant a huge grin. “Wasn’t that great?”
“It was.” She presses her lips together, tucking us against the cement half-wall.
Her expression makes a sinking sensation tug at my stomach. “What is it?”
“He’d like you to leave. You’re a…distraction.” Janessa twists her nose as if her words taste rotten.
“What?”
My question is little more than a puff of breath swallowed by the music from the loudspeakers.
Her eyes soften. “I know. I’m sorry. Can I drive you home?”
If I thought the ringing in my brain had been intense before, it’s unbearable now.
“He told you—” I swallow because somehow there’s sand in my mouth. “Aaron wanted you to ask me to leave?”
She sighs. “Yeah.”
It’s her obvious discomfort that does me in. Janessa has always been so sweet, coordinating dates for us around Aaron’sincredibly busy schedule. I’m sure she doesn’t want to be delivering this news any more than I want to be hearing it.
“Oh.” I blink rapidly, trying to keep tears at bay.
Janessa wraps me in a quick hug. “Let me drive you home.”
“Okay.” I sniff, following her for a few steps before halting.
