Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
I glance down at the sparkling oval diamond on my left hand then fidget on the bench, cursing Lindsey for picking this moment—of all moments—to have a conversation with Pam. There’s no one to distract from the fact that Charlotte and I are sitting hip to hip in total silence. It’s so awkward I’m glad for my margarita because I need something to do with myself. I take a sip and pretend to look at my phone. Meanwhile, Charlotte clears her throat beside me.
“Great weather, yeah?” she offers vaguely.
I set down my phone. It’s almost a hundred degrees out here. This is not good weather, this is barely tolerable weather.
I look over and see she’s wringing her hands. Suddenly, I can’t take it.
I reach out and put my hand on her shoulder. “Listen, hey. Let’s rewind, okay? Fresh start?”
Her eyes light up as she turns to look at me. I swear she might cry. “Would you be willing? Really? I was such a jerk and I know I owe you an apology. I just feel like…like I was so nasty that day in the coffee shop. To be honest, I had a little crush on Sawyer and I let it cloud my judgment. I feel real shame about the things I said to you. I tell my students to treat others the way they want to be treated and there I was, acting all high and mighty when I should have tried to be your friend.”
Just as suspected, Charlotte is filled with ooey-gooey goodness. I can’t hate the girl.
I smile. “Well I appreciate that, Charlotte. Don’t worry about it. It’s all good.”
She beams. “And can I just say, y’all’s baby is so cute!”
Now I’m the one beaming because yes, he is.
“Hey Madison, come here for a second,” Sawyer calls, waving me over. Uh-oh, am I in trouble with the captain? Wink.
I smile once more at Charlotte to let her know things are all good between us and then I head over to Sawyer. He’s still standing at the door of the dugout, reviewing his clipboard and making sure everything’s game ready.
“What have I done this time, captain?”
He looks at me with a straight face, trying to act like he can’t stand my antics when we both know he loves them.
“Listen, when we take the field, I need you to play catcher. Jimmy is out sick.”
I immediately panic and clench my hand, preempting the pain that will come my way if I shimmy into all that catcher’s gear again. “No way! Pick someone else. Anyone!”
He tucks his clipboard under his arm, drops his hands on my shoulders, and turns to face me fully. “Listen, I’ll go easy on you, I swear. It won’t be like last time.” His eyebrows pinch together in remorse. “I’m still sorry about that.”
I shoot him a warning scowl. “Yeah well even still, I’m not doing it…”
He sighs and bends down, lowering his voice. “I swear you’ll be fine. And if somehow one of my pitches hits your glove a little too hard, I promise I’ll make it up to you later.”
Oh. Now we’re talking.
My cheeks turn cherry red with all the possibilities, but I’m still not convinced. “How?”
His eyes darken; he knows he already has me wrapped around his finger. “I’ll wash all the dirty bottles sitting in the sink and I’ll fold the laundry.”
“Pfft. Sweeten the pot.”
He laughs. “Okay, a back rub and—” He pauses and looks over my shoulder to make sure no one’s paying us any attention. When his eyes lock with mine again, I shiver. “I’ll do that thing you love. With my hands and my—”
I fling my hand over his mouth before he can continue. I won’t be able to concentrate in this game if he starts talking dirty to me in this dugout.
“Yes. Yes! I’ll play catcher!”
I remove my hand, and his triumphant smile only makes him that much more handsome.
This man. I swear…
He steps back and whistles to the team. “What are you guys sitting around for? Let’s go!”
Later that evening, we’re at home enjoying our triumphant win over Cedar Valley for the second year in a row. The house is quiet—for now. Sleep when the baby sleeps, that’s what everyone tells you, but no one actually follows that advice. I can’t go to sleep at six PM, not when Sawyer is continuing to fulfill all those promises from earlier. The only thing left to do is wash the baby bottles, and he’s doing it now while white bean chicken chili simmers on the stove. He makes the meal for me every Saturday night; it’s our tradition. If I went in there and offered to help, he’d tell me to march my butt right back to the couch.
I love evenings like this, when it’s just our little family at home. It’s not picture perfect, mind you. There are dirty burp cloths strewn about, dried milk crusting on my oversized t-shirt, and some miscellaneous baking show is playing on the TV, but I’m not paying any attention to it. I’m too busy trying to upload a batch of baby pictures to Facebook. It’s tough whittling them down to only a few when really, I have at least a hundred I’d like to spam out to my friends list.