Jesus, that was painful to watch.
I wait for the doctor to disappear and for April, who now looks defeated, to say something, but she doesn’t. Instead, her shoulders fall before she plops herself on a free bar stool. She raises her finger to grab the barman’s attention.
Stepping closer to her, I lean against the bar as she asks for two shots of vodka. Yikes, this is bad, as that’s a bold order.
“April,” I say her name with firmness, but I need her attention again.
An audible breath escapes as she twirls on the stool to focus on me.
“Are you okay with the plan?” God, I wish I had another option.
“I have no choice. So, shacking up with you it is.”
Huh, I thought this would require a little more debate.
My jaw flexes as I ponder that thought before it registers that by letting April stay at my house, I’m letting her into the parts of my personal life that not many people know. I require a lot of trust when it comes to my life outside of baseball, but April staying at my place is the only way. I need to chance it, and a part of me doesn’t seem to be second-guessing about letting April in.
The shots of vodka show up, and we each take one. She doesn’t hesitate and downs it.
I tap my drink on her now-empty glass that she set on the bar. "Cheers."
Her head makes a sharp turn in my direction, and she narrows her eyes in on me. “How do you know they can tell it’s more you than me?”
I scoff a sound instead of giving her words.
“Did you watch the video?” she wonders.
It isn’t anger, nerves, or fear that is in her voice. It’s almost an acknowledgment that there is something underlying if I did.
I’ve been caught out because I may have watched a scene or two. “How could I not? Hate sex brings out the best performance, which means we were award-worthy, since we might've actually looked like two people who passionately want each other.”
I stand and decide this is my moment to leave her.
We’ll have enough time to soak in our situation when she is under my roof.
3
APRIL
Iwant to see the video. That can’t be a bad idea, right? I should demand to see the proof of our little escapade. It’s my right.
I swing my legs out of my small SUV, and I groan at the fact that I just pulled up to Spencer’s house. He lives on a cul-de-sac with two other houses, one of which is Piper and Hudson’s, and the other belongs to a hockey player. All the houses deserve a spot in an architecture magazine, plus they all back onto the lake.
Rage fills me as I walk to the back of my car to grab my suitcases because I’m here for God knows how long.
As I’m opening the trunk, I hear a familiar voice that may just be my saving grace in this situation.
“April?” Piper asks as she approaches with baby Gracie in one of those wrap things. Despite being sleep-deprived, Piper always looks put-together, and her brown hair is up in a bun that looks messy in an on-purpose fashionable way.
I look at her as I swing my suitcase out, and my new beagle Pickles jumps out onto the driveway too.
“Oh, hey.”
“Uhm. Think you parked at the wrong house. I wasn’t expecting you. I mean, it’s great, I just need to change the sheets in the guest room.” She looks affectionately at her daughter who is also my cousin. I know my uncle isn’t around because there is an away game this week.
It dawns on me that this situation took such a fast spin that I haven’t updated Piper on the latest.
I bite the bullet and bring my hand to my hip, knowing there is an awkward look plastered on my face. “I'm not here to stay with you.”
