Yet somehow I still did.
Distance doesn't do good for anyone, that's what I told myself when I got into college, and again when I was drafted to the Texas Rangers. My dad “kindly” taught me that lesson in eighth grade when he packed his bags and we never heard from him again.
That’s what I was telling myself when I called Audrey drunk all those years ago.
She’d be fine if I just kept my distance.
“Okay, let’s go,” Connor says, grabbing his keys. “We’ll be late.”
No, we won’t.
The Mendez family are sticklers for being early. Thirty minutes early is considered being on time in that household.
I won’t complain though, it’s been almost three years since I’ve seen Audrey in person. We got word a few weeks ago that I’ll be joining Connor in Kansas City, playing on the Royals, and Connor wants us to tell her the news together before pre-season starts and news officially breaks.
When I asked him why she’d care after all these years of barely talking, he gave me a smug smile and said, “Because, it’s you.”
I know he meant it’s because I’m part of the family and they just want to celebrate, but my heart wants to believe something else.
That we’re still destined for each other.
I’ve always maintained the hope that we’d end up together someday. But, I know that me moving away and never telling her how I felt made me lose her.
That andPaul.
And the damn phone call.
Now, it’s too late to go back to rewrite history and I have to live with that regret.
I have to live knowing that I’ll never find another love like hers.
Connor and I drive through the city chattering about his parents' current pickleball obsession but a weird energy fills the car, making me wonder if this is actually a good idea.
When Bert’s Steakhouse comes into view, a subtle knot forms in my stomach. I’m suddenly nervous to see her, especially with Paul in tow. Everything I know about this version of Audrey is what I’ve seen on social media or overheard from phone conversations with Connor. We’ve texted over the years—mostly birthday wishes and holidaygreetings, but it's never been enough for me. Not seeing her every day has felt as if a chunk of my heart is missing.
I hated every minute of the day I first met Paul because he was holding her hand and kissing her.
He had what I so desperately wanted.
I’ve tried to date other people over the years but none of them lived up to my expectations. None of them loved baseball the wayshedid, or kicked my ass at Mario Kart or stayed up all hours playing cards with me.
None of them felt like home to me.
Connor parks the car and we move to stand outside the restaurant. He taps his foot anxiously, even though we’re ten minutes early.
“I’m surprised she didn’t beat us here,” I comment. Connor is usually the “tardy” one in the family—though still always early.
“Paul's slow to wrangle sometimes,” Connor mumbles while scanning the street, the overprotective brotherly tone is hard to miss.
Connor and Paul have never been best buds by any account, but it’s strange for Connor to be so on edge. I’ve known him for over twenty years, and he’s been mad all of six times. He’s always hidden his distaste for Paul from Audrey pretty well. After she followed him to college in Chicago, Connor and I rarely talked about them. I never knew if he was trying to protect me, but I appreciated not hearing about their relationship nonetheless.
I catch a familiar figure in my peripheral vision and my heart starts to race. I see her before she sees us. My eyes land on her face, expecting to see her million-dollar smile that I love so much. Instead, her mouth is in a thin line and her body looks stiff as she says something to Paul, but he doesn’t even glance up from his phone.
It feels wrong—me watching her, while the man she loves doesn’t even seem to notice her existence.
Audrey’s wearing a long black jacket over jeans and bright blue heels, her dark brown hair is tied back from her face in a high ponytail. The beauty radiates off of her the same way it always has, but she looks tired and beaten down.
Then her eyes land on her brother.
