Emily's heart did the thing it always did when he looked at her like that. Three months, and it hadn't faded. If anything, it had gotten stronger. The knowledge of him that she carried now. His nightmares and his patience. Making breakfast on Sunday mornings. All of it made the wanting deeper.
"You know what I keep thinking about?" Emily said, still looking at Jake.
"Tell me."
"Six months ago, I would have taken the Washington job without hesitating. I would have packed my apartment and moved across the country and told myself it was the right choice because it was the successful choice." She paused. "And I would have missed all of this."
"But you didn't."
"No.”
"Why not?"
Emily considered the question. She'd asked herself the same thing, in the weeks since Katherine Winters had flown back toWashington with a polite rejection and a promise to keep Emily in mind for future opportunities. Why not? Why had she walked away from everything she'd spent her career building?
"Because I finally figured out what I actually wanted," she said. "Not what I was supposed to want. Not what looked impressive or made my parents proud or checked the right boxes. What I wanted." She turned to Erika. "He's the first thing I ever chose just because I wanted it."
Erika's expression softened. "That's either the most romantic thing I've ever heard or the saddest."
"Maybe both."
"Yeah." Erika reached over and squeezed her hand. "Maybe both."
The teams were switching now, Jacob's team taking the field for warm-ups. Jake made his way toward the bleachers, stopping to talk to one of the other dads, then continuing up the aluminum steps until he reached their row.
"Ladies," he said, settling beside Emily. His thigh pressed against hers, warm and solid. "What are we talking about?"
"You," Erika said.
"Favorite subject."
"We were discussing your shine," Emily said. "Whether it's faded."
"And?"
"The jury's still out."
Jake put his hand over his heart. "Wounded. Deeply wounded." But he was smiling, and when he leaned over to kiss her temple, Emily felt herself lean into it without thinking.
This was her life now. Bleachers on Saturday afternoons. A man who kissed her temple like it was the most natural thing in the world. A kid at the plate with a swing that was finally starting to come together.
She pulled out her phone.
"What are you doing?" Erika asked.
"Hold on."
Jake was still at the fence, talking to Jacob before the he headed to the dugout. She opened the camera and framed them, Jake crouched low, one hand wrapped around the chain link, Jacob grinning at whatever he'd just said. The afternoon light caught them both, golden and warm.
She took the photo.
Another piece of her life, captured. Another image for the digital frame that sat on Jake's dresser, their dresser, now. The bleachers photo was still her favorite, but this one might give it competition.
Some people had lives that fit in a frame.
Emily Callahan was building one.
The game went well.Jacob got a hit — a real hit, not a walk or an error, but a line drive into left field that got him to second base. He was so excited he nearly forgot to stay on the bag, and Jake had to yell from the bleachers to remind him.
