“No. This is more than enough, thank you. Come sit down, it’s almost time for me to go.” I grab her hand and pull her away from the fridge.
“I don’t know why you have to rush off so soon,” she says, moving closer, but still not sitting down. “You only just got here.”
“Mom, I really shouldn’t have left in the first place, but they gave me some extra time.”
She shrugs her shoulders and turns her back toward the counter, but not before adding, “Just be sure to call more often when you’re in L.A.”
“I will, Mom.”
She turns back to the fridge. “I’ll just pack a lunch for the plane ride.”
“Mom, you don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine for a few hours.”
“Let her do it. She likes taking care of you.”
“Yes, I do. But it’s time you start thinking about having another woman in your life.”
My father waggles his eyebrows across the kitchen table at me. “I think he already has his sights on a pretty blonde with curly hair.”
My mother spins around and points her finger at me. “That girl is not for you, Casey. You need someone more sophisticated.”
“Sage is sophisticated,” my father argues, beating me to the punch.
“That girl is half naked every time I see her.”
My father and I both smile, but before I can defend Sage, my mother harps on. “Now, Mrs. Tanner’s niece, she’s a prize. You should give her a call when you’re in L.A. She’ll be visiting Texas soon and you two should meet up.”
“I have no intention of going to Texas and no intention of dating anyone.”
“Really?” Both my mother and father ask, but my father’s expression gives me pause. If possible, I think he may be a little more disappointed than my mother.
“Why are you surprised?”
“I could be wrong, but I thought you liked Sage.”
“I do.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Leave him. He knows when a woman isn’t right for him.”
I sigh. “It’s not that. Sage is wonderful. But I’m not interested in dating anyone. My focus is baseball. It’s everything to me.”
My father rubs his face.
I’d never noticed how deep his wrinkles have gotten, especially around his eyes and forehead. When did my dad get old? I can still remember his face when he took me to my first little league game. “Don’t look so disappointed, Dad. This is what we worked so hard for. All those weekend tournaments, all the nights you caught my pitches even when it became dark and Mom would yell at us to get inside, it was all for this.”
He nods but looks away.
My mother squeezes my shoulders and leans in to kiss my cheek. “You’re right, baby. You need to focus on yourself. There will be plenty of time for women when you retire.”
I’m nodding along with my mother, but a sinking feeling drops in my stomach. Her words make sense, and it’s practically what I just told my father, but they sound wrong when she says them out loud.
My phone pings with a message. “I’ve got to go. My ride is outside.”
My father slowly straightens out of his chair, stumbles, but quickly recovers. He puts his hand on my arm, and I stare at it before meeting his gaze. “Take care, son. And don’t be a stranger this time.”
“I’ll call, Dad.”
