I’m on my feet, screaming and cheering for him, slapping the glass as if I were anywhere close enough for him to hear me.
The boys rush out of the dugout to meet him at home plate, and I don’t miss the relieved smile he wears as he rounds second.
I could not be happier for him. Immeasurable pride sits on my chest as he touches the third base.
My attention ticks to the dugout, the way I’ve tried not to all night.
I wish I could be down there to celebrate with the field manager.
This is a victory not only for the team or for Milo, but also for us. After going through hell in the press, this feels like a big fucking win.
There’s a stunning smile on Emmett’s face as he cheers for his new player, clapping his hands together. I half expect Emmett to be out there with his team, waiting to greet Milo when hetouches home, but apparently, he’s going to leave that moment to the players.
Instead, when Milo runs into the pile of his teammates, Emmett turns his back to the field to look in the opposite direction.
Up. Right at me.
He claps his hands together along with the rest of the crowd, but unlike them, Emmett isn’t celebrating this moment with the team and the fans. I think he’s still in the dugout so he can celebrate this moment with me.
His proud smile and discreet wink confirms my theory.
The elevator opens on the top floor with only Emmett inside.
He’s got this knowing look on his face, as if he knew I’d be the one waiting on the other side when the doors open. As if he rode this elevator to the top floor for no other reason than to see if I’d get on it with him.
I step inside, slightly in front of him, both of us facing the doors and trying our best to keep things professional while other people are still here from the game.
“You seem excited,” he says low in my ear.
I smile at my reflection. “Of course I am. We just won. Milo just hit a homer off one of the best closers in the league. And I got laid last night. Life is good.”
Emmett chuckles from behind me. “Are you sure you’re not just excited for this postgame press conference you’re about to walk into?”
He knows me far too well.
“I might be a little eager to put some of these reporters in their place after last week.”
“Any idea of what you’re going to say?”
“Might not say anything. Might just hold up two middle fingers and call the press conference done.”
Emmett slides a hand over my ass to my hip, squeezing me there. “You’re spicy today.”
“Thank you.”
As we slowly descend to the clubhouse level, a heavy forearm wraps around the front of my chest, pulling me until my back is flush to him.
“I’m proud of you,” Emmett says quietly, punctuated by a tender kiss on my hair.
I swallow. “For what?”
“For getting through the worst of it. You have every right to go in there and tell them they can all go fuck themselves for how they spoke about you.”
I grasp his arm with both my hands, eager for that small amount of physical touch. “I’ll kill them with kindness. Answer their questions politely. Act professionally and all that. But they’ll have to ask them while knowing I read the things they said about me.”
“And that’s also why I’m proud of you.” His lips move to my neck for another kiss, and I can’t help the upturn of my smile, feeling him nuzzle against me.
“Good game today, Coach.”
