“I missed you too, Reese,” I say into the quiet bathroom. “I didn’t get to say it earlier, but I missed you too.”
Smiling to herself, she takes her careful last swipe, running the razor under the water to clean it off. Then she looks over her handywork, checking the line of my beard.
I would check for myself in the mirror, but I already know it looks perfect. She gave way too much effort, cares about me too much, for it not to be.
I stroke my thumbs over her inner thighs, keeping my hold on her. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
“You’re welcome, Em.” She punctuates her statement with a soft kiss to my freshly shaven jawline. “So handsome.”
Slipping my hand into her hair, I hold her against me for a moment before we’ll have to break away for the rest of the day. She wraps her arms around my waist. I breathe her in. She does the same.
My person.
My daughter’s words play on a loop again, but this time there’s no asking myself if that’s the correct label or not.
Because there’s not a doubt in my mind that Reese is my person.
35
Reese
“I don’t know if there was one specific thing that contributed to our win tonight,” Emmett says into the microphone during the postgame press conference. “Our pitching was phenomenal throughout all nine innings. Our defense was sharp. Our base running was aggressive at the right times. Overall, it was a team win.”
I watch from my spot in the back of the media room. Behind all the reporters, I lean on the doorway that leads out into the hallway.
“You guys are on a five-game win streak,” a reporter says. “Can we contribute any of that to Jones joining the lineup?”
“I think having Milo join the team has been great. He has an eagerness to learn. The vets are enjoying having him around. Overall, I would say the entire organization has a new...energylately.”
Emmett’s eyes flick to mine for the briefest of moments, a smirk tilting one side of his mouth.
He and I definitely have a new energy lately.
“And by the way.” He sits forward to speak into the microphone. “Our current President of Baseball Ops, Reese Remington, is the one who discovered Milo a few years back. Thought I should clear that up for all of you. And if you ask me, he was a hell of a find.”
A few heads turn my way.
He didn’t need to give me that credit, but of course he did so anyway.
Standing in the shadows, I offer a polite lift of my hand to get the attention off me again. I shouldn’t even be in this room, but I have a hard time staying away from the field manager these days.
Once they turn their attention back to the front stage where Emmett sits under the bright lights, I risk another glance his way.
Smug and satisfied, resting back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. So proud of himself for dropping that little anecdote.
The postgame interview continues, winding down the long day, but I should get going. I’ve been on the road for the last two nights and instead of going home this morning when I landed back in Chicago, I headed straight for Emmett’s place.
I decide to stay for one last question, simply because I enjoy Emmett’s point of view on his team, when someone slides into the space next to me.
“Reese.”
Unfortunately, I’d recognize that voice anywhere.
Every muscle in my body goes rigid at the realization of who is next to me. In this building I love so much. This place that holds so many of my favorite memories. I had mentally prepared myself to run into him while I was in New York, but not here.
“Jeremy. What are you doing here?” I ask my ex-husband.
He leans onto the wall next to me. “One of our umpires has been missing some calls. I needed to watch him live. He happened to be calling your game today, so I figured it was the perfect one to come see.”
