Roasters 19-10
We were minutes away from the first pitch of the game and my stomach was knotted tighter than Little Bo Peep's corset. I hadn't eaten a thing all day. I'd even passed on my usual latte.
There would be plenty of time to eat later. Maybe after we won the game and I won back the man of my dreams, we could celebrate with him eating my pussy for dinner. Or hot dogs?
For today's Mother's Day matchup, the Rose City Roasters were taking on the Denver Bandits, one of the better teams in the league. We all wanted the win today, especially when so many of the staff’s and players' families were in attendance.
I had already had the pleasure of meeting Pink's mother, a petite woman who had a quarter of her son's energy. Matty's grandmother had raised him and she was in attendance as well, decked out in every piece of Roasters gear she could get her hands on. Within minutes, she was handing out laminated copies of her peach cobbler recipe to every person in her section.
All of the moms and maternal figures were seated in the section behind the Roasters' dugout, which made it easy for us to grab pictures with them during the game and difficult for me because it meant being so close to Soren.
And he wasn't the only Sinclair I was nervous about seeing.
"Clarke, hey!"
I spun to face Monty, who was quickly barreling down the aisle, headed straight toward me. They raced into my arms, wrapping me up in a warm hug.
"Hiya!!
"Look," they said, peeling away from me to show off their look. "What do you think? I got your Drop Dead Red lipstick."
Even though it was a cloudy day, I felt my cheeks pinken. That lipstick would forever evoke a certain special memory for me. One that was not suitable for discussing with teenagers.
"It looks great on you," I told them. "Where's your mom?"
"She's coming. Grandma has to stop and talk with everyone she sees wearing a Sinclair jersey." They rolled their eyes. "So embarrassing."
I scanned the aisle behind them, quickly recognizing Shelby as the brunette with a soft pretzel in one hand and a red foam finger on the other. The thirty-something woman beside her—the one corralling three children under the age of ten—had to be Sadie, Soren's other sister. Where Shelby was all things boho chic and Americana, Sadie was rocker chick. Black on black on black. In fact, her only pop of color was the toddler in her arms, dressed in a green dinosaur onesie.
And then there was Soren's mom, Mrs. Sinclair. While Shelby and Sadie had dark hair like their brother, Mrs. Sinclair rocked a silver-gray bob. All three of the Sinclair women sported red and white jerseys with Soren's number on them. Just like me.
"I see we've upgraded from the shoes," Shelby said, pulling me in for a hug. "Good to see you again, Clarke."
"You, too. Andyoumust be Sadie," I said, turning to the taller woman next to her. Her three-inch, knee-high boots gave her some added height, but even without them, she'd still tower over me.
"I didn't realize I was wearing a name tag today."
"No, your brother's told me all about you." When her brows drew together, I added, "I mean, he's showed me photos of you and your entire family."
And now I sound like a stalker.
Figuring it was better to quit now, I held my hand out to her. "I'm Clarke. I'm with . . . your brother."
"Withhim, with him?"
"That's still to be determined."
"She's the one I told you about," Shelby said under her breath.
Surprise dawned on Sadie's face. "Oh,you'rethe one."
Was I "the one" for Soren? I certainly hoped so. Hopefully, I'd have my answer after today, assuming everything went as planned.
"Oh, another Sinclair fan, I see."
I held my breath when Soren's mother approached me. This wasn't how I had envisioned "meeting the parents," but at least I had my game face on. Drop Dead Red lipstick and all.
"Hi, Mrs. Sinclair." I held a hand out to her. "My name's Clarke Myers, and I'm the social media coordinator for the team. I also—"
