“I am heterosexual,” Bella said, though she didn’t sound convinced.
June arched a brow. “Was that a question?”
Bella blinked at June’s expression. “Well, I’ve only ever kissed two men, so I’m not really sure if I’m attracted to women or not.”
I bit back a smile. Pink’s younger sister had moved to Rose City last fall after taking a leave of absence from college, andshe had won us all over almost instantly. Even though she was a decade younger than I was, she had maturity and self-awareness that I admired.
I pitied the idiots who thought autism was anything less than a superpower. Bella’s directness was something to be envied. She processed everything in straightforward terms—no dancing around it, no dressing it up to make other people more comfortable. Just pure honesty, like she was reading from her own internal rulebook.
June’s lips twitched like she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or press for more details. “All the more reason for us to make out in front of thousands of strangers, don’t you think?”
Bella gave a little nod, clearly filing away June’s reasoning like it was useful data. “Excellent point.”
Nessa rolled her eyes. “Oh my god. If I promise to kiss you on camera, will you leave the poor girl alone?”
June smirked into her drink. “No promises.”
I snorted. “Lord, you guys are going to get banned before the first pitch.”
It was one of those picture-perfect game days at the Roasters’ stadium. Bright blue sky, sunlight glinting off the upper deck, just enough wind to whip your hair into your beer and send stray napkins skittering across the concourse. On the field, players jogged the warning track, worked through stretches along the foul lines, and snapped warm-up throws across the infield. A couple of outfielders were tracking lazy pop flies under the sun, while the bullpen guys leaned against the railing, talking and spitting sunflower seeds like they had all the time in the world.
Today marked our second annual “Rose City Proud” day at the ballpark. The event honored local businesses, including Nessa’s bookstore, Jo’s bakery, Would Smell as Sweet, and June’s vintage trailer resort, Bed of Roses, all of which would be featured on the jumbotron between innings. The three of themhad been invited down to the field pregame for photos, and they were still riding the buzz of having their logos splashed across a stadium full of fans.
Kaylani was just along for the ride . . . and ballpark snacks. Because where else could you enjoy a slice of deep-fried marionberry pie while watching men in too-tight pants play with balls?
By the time we reached our seats behind the dugout, the place was already humming. Bella settled into hers crisscross applesauce style and pulled out her Loop earplugs, not that they were any match for the stadium noise. Nessa, June, and Jo filed in beside her, their arms loaded with enough concessions that it made me wonder if they had all skipped breakfastandlunch. The smell of melted cheese and fryer oil immediately drifted down the row, making my stomach growl despite the bag of boring ass trail mix in my fanny pack.
That left Kaylani on the aisle, who lowered herself into her seat with the air of a queen claiming her throne. Talk about a walking, talking example of pregnancy propaganda. She looked ten times better than I felt.
I had yet to experience that “pregnancy glow” I had heard so much about, but Kaylani was practically the poster girl for it. Her warm golden-brown skin caught the afternoon light like she’d been airbrushed, and not a single strand of her glossy black hair dared to be out of place. She looked like she’d stepped straight out of a maternity photoshoot in one of those chic, neutral-toned wrap dresses rather than someone waddling into a ballpark for deep-fried pie.
May we all be so lucky.
“Wow, we’re practically on the field,” Jo squealed. While Bella and Nessa had ties to the team through Pink, Jo was by far the biggest baseball fan of our friend group. “Thanks, Dani.”
June zeroed in on our backup catcher not ten yards away. “Incredible views.”
I had pulled some strings with the ticket office to make sure they had prime behind-the-dugout seats, even blocking off an extra one for Clarke and me to tag-team between innings. It wasn’t exactly a hardship—especially when the view came with a side of eye candy in uniform.
And black-rimmed glasses.
“So,” Nessa said, twisting in her seat to look at me. “What was in your latest Triple D package?”
My brows scrunched together. “My what?”
“Triple D. Your daily Daddy delivery.”
I buried my face in my hands.
Kaylani leaned back, resting her hands on her belly. “Ooo, do tell.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“She’s gotten, like, six care packages this week,” Bella said flatly, not even looking up from her phone. “Sometimes two in a day.”
I turned toward her slowly. “Traitor.”
Bella shrugged. “It’s not a secret. They’re usually sitting on the porch when I get home.”
