Needless to say, it’s been hard to escape the news that Carson Stone is back in town and that he’s the newest up-and-comer for the Bobbies with massive potential.
“It’s not like he’s going to see you at the game,” Shane says, pointing out the obvious. “He has more important things to focus on rather than impossibly trying to pick someone out in the stands.”
“I understand he won’t see me, but it’s seeing him, hearing everyone chant for him, it’s too . . . difficult.”
“Does that mean you’ll never go to another Bobbies game again?”
“No, don’t be ridiculous. It’s just . . . it’s his first start as a solid name on the roster. There’s going to be big fanfare around it. I don’t know if I can take it. It still seems too raw.” I pick at my bagel, my appetite depleted.
“So that’s a no?”
“Maybe.” I sigh and lean back in my chair. “Honestly, I knew there was a good chance he’d be back in Chicago soon, I just didn’t realize it was going to be this soon, you know? It doesn’t seem like that long ago when he broke me.”
“I’m not telling you how to mend your heart, but what I am saying is Opening Day is one of your favorite things, so don’t let him take that away from you. It might sting, but the sting might be worth it to finally get over the hurdle of pain.”
“I hate that you make sense.”
“How about a lot?” He winks. “Think about it. Jerry’s going to be in town, and he’s really looking forward to it. We both are. Just like old times.”
I pick at the cheese on my bagel and put a tiny bite in my mouth.
“Okay, I’ll think about it.”
“Cory, you really need to stop buying me dinner,” I huff into the phone. “I make money, I can afford things.”
“Yeah, well, Rian and Sean both told me about your depressed demeanor because of Stone’s reemergence in town, so I thought some of your favorite deep-dish pizza would cheer you up. Also, don’t forget I let you and the boys buy your plane tickets to the Bahamas over break, so I’m still making up from that.”
“You upgraded our seats to first class behind our backs.”
“I’m not even sorry about it.” He laughs into the phone. Honestly, he needs to find a girlfriend and stop spending money on us, not that I’m not grateful, but I want him to be happy. Then again, I guess spending it on us does make him happy. And taking us to the Bahamas for a week made him happy. We don’t get to do a lot of things together, because Cory lives in Baltimore and his schedule doesn’t allow for much, so when he asked if we would go on vacation, we jumped on it.
“Seriously though, how’s the girlfriend search? Anyone on the horizon?”
“Nah, don’t have time for that. No one wants to date a baseball player during the season.”
I laugh out loud, the sound vibrating in my chest. “You’re delusional. There are probably a million girls in Maryland alone waiting for you to look their way.”
“Yeah, and each of them with the wrong intention. I don’t want a girl who wants me because I play major league baseball. I want a girl who wants me for who I am.”
“So that means I’m in charge of setting you up again?”
“Find me a good one,” he jokes, just as there’s a knock on my door.
“Oh, delivery is here,” I say with excitement.
“I thought you didn’t want food from me. Now you’re all excited.”
“I just feel bad that you’re always buying me things.”
“It makes me happy, so deal with it,” he says as I dig through my wallet for a tip. “Now put me on FaceTime so I can see your face while you eat the pizza.”
I pause. “That’s really weird.”
“Nah, it’s not weird at all. Let me live vicariously through you.” Before I can stop him, he sends a FaceTime request and I reluctantly accept it. Sitting on his leather couch in a Storm shirt and black shorts, he waves like a moron at me. “There’s my girl. Still can’t get over the shoulder-length hair; it looks good, but matures you about ten years.”
“Wow, thanks for calling me old.” I set the phone on the console in the entryway and open the door, holding out the tip money. “Than—”
My mouth falls open and my heart catapults in my chest when my eyes connect with the man standing in my doorway. Handsome as ever with a five o’clock shadow that only highlights his light blue eyes even more is Carson Stone, a blast from the past, the last person I ever expected to be standing at my door.
“Milly, is everything okay?” Cory asks, but I ignore him.
My head starts shaking no as I take a step back, my chest filling with grief, my eyes clouding with tears, my heart breaking all over again from being this close to him, from inhaling his familiar scent, from seeing deep into the same eyes I fell in love with so long ago.
“Wh-what are y-you doing here?” I ask.
“Who’s there? Do I need to call the cops?” Cory shouts.
“I was hoping we could talk,” Carson says, his face somber but with a hint of hope.
But hope for what? He killed whatever was happening between us.
“Talk? Who is that? Is that Stone?” Cory yells.
Finally addressing him, I reach for the phone and say, “I’ll call you back.” He goes to say something but I hang up before I can translate, and then set my phone back on the console and fold my arms across my chest, finally remembering what I look like.
Good Lord.
My short hair is an absolute mess, windblown from my walk earlier. I’m wearing Baltimore Storm sweatpants that have seen better days, and I’m in a loose, feminine-cut black shirt. Not the kind of outfit you want to be wearing when you see an ex for the first time in years.
“Carson, I . . . I don’t think you should be here.”
“I understand.” He stuffs his hands in his jeans pockets that cling to his thighs. That’s when I take a second—and I mean a second—to admire how much stronger he looks, how the last three years under a strong training regimen has transformed him even more into a starting second baseman for a major league baseball team. “But I would like to say something to you before I go. Can I at least do that?”
No.
I want you to leave.
I wish you never came by.
Because now my heart is beating fast, my palms are sweating, and the emotions that I’ve tamped down are resurfacing again.
And that scares me.
I’ve never felt for anyone the way I feel for you . . .
“Fine,” I answer, even though my conscious is screaming obscenities at me.
“Can I come in?” He nods to my small studio apartment, the same apartment we were intimate all over. On the bed, the chairs, the counters, the shower, every part of this apartment has been touched by him, and it’s one of the reasons I desperately wanted to move and the only reason I’ve stayed.
I shake my head. “That’s not a good idea.” I lean against the wall and say, “Just tell me why you’re here.”
“Okay.” He takes a deep breath and connects his gaze with mine. “I came here to tell you I was sorry.”