“Yeah, that’d be great,” I tell them before packing my chair up and making my way over to sit behind the dugout labelled HOME.
My phone buzzes in my pocket as I unfold my chair on the right side of the field, setting myself up right next to Petro and an empty chair, which I assume is Colt’s. Huh, hadn’t noticed them show up, but glad they came up to cheer the Titans on all the same.
“Where’s Colt?” I ask Petro.
“Changing the baby,” he nods up to the parking lot.
“Oh, good, you brought her! My girls are going to probably try to steal her away again, fair warning.”
He chuckles. “Doubt it, once Chloe starts crying for a bottle, they’ll hand her right back. Girl’s got a set of lungs on her.”
My phone buzzes again. “Alright, alright. Jeesh,” I mutter, yanking it from my pocket.
Caleb
Let Gordy know I’m running a little late, but I’ll be there soon!
Marcus won’t be, though.
The multiple green, pukey emojis he included told me all I needed to know about why Marcus would be absent.
Me
Rough. Your kids bring that shit home from school too?
Caleb
There was a solid fight for porcelain rights for a bit there. We may need to think about adding another bathroom.
Thinking I might ask the boss for a raise so I can afford it.
I promptly follow upthatremark with a middle finger emoji.
Me
Getting pretty good at sign language, aren’t I?
Caleb
LMAO Eh… You’re getting there.
Me
Least you’re honest. See you when you get here, bud.
Caleb
K
“Babe,” I call out, approaching the fence. Then I whistle when he’s too in the zone, barking out batting orders. “Gordy!”
He glances up from his notebook. “Yeah?”
“Caleb just texted, he’s on his way, but—you’re down a catcher.”
“Marcus isn’t coming?”
I shake my head. “Caught that stomach shit, I guess.”
