In the midst of the chaos, Dottie brings her lips to my ear and says, “You’re ridiculous. But I love you so much, Jason. Forever and always.”
Cue the camera spinning around us.
Cue the mushy music.
Cue the tears.
Because this story might have started with a burnt ham, but it’s sure as hell ending with one hell of a happily ever after.
Extended Epilogue
KNOX
“How was Greece?” I ask, while lacing up my turf shoes.
“Amazing,” Carson answers. “Didn’t want to leave.”
“Milly had fun?”
Carson nods while slipping his baseball hat on backwards. “Yeah, it was good for her. You know, to step away and take a breather from everything.”
My brow crinkles. “From everything?” I ask. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” he says quietly and then stands. He grabs his deodorant and lifts up his shirt so he can swipe some on.
“Dude, something going on you’re not telling me about?”
He caps off the deodorant and then sticks it back in his locker. “Nah, we’re good.” He nods toward the exit of the locker room. “Want to get some hits in or are you just here for weight training?”
I study my best friend.
Truly study him.
There’s a slump in his shoulders.
Dark circles under his eyes.
And his normally freshly shaven face has a heavy dose of scruff that I’m not used to seeing on him. I assumed it was vacation beard or some shit like that, but now hearing the worry in his voice, I’m beginning to think it’s something else.
“You know you can talk to me, right?” I ask.
“Yeah, dude, of course.” He grabs his bat from his locker. “I’m going to get some swings in. You in?”
I came into the stadium today to lift like I do almost every day during the off-season. I don’t normally start picking up the bat again until December, and it’s casual at best, just to give my body a solid rest from my sport. But from Carson’s behavior, I don’t think he should be alone, even if we don’t talk about what’s on his mind.
“Sure,” I say, standing as well. “Let me shoot a quick text to Emory to make sure she’s doing okay.”
“She home with Matty right now?”
Matty is our two-year-old son, our beautiful but incredibly boisterous son.
I send her a quick text, letting her know I’m going to hit some balls with Carson.
“She is, but that’s not the problem.”
“What’s the problem?” Carson asks as Emory sends a text back.
Emory: All good here. Get some good swings in.
I smile to myself and put my phone on the shelf of my locker.
“My mom is visiting. They get along really well, but ever since Matty was born, my mom has made it her mission to tell Emory every single way to take care of a baby.”
Carson winces. “Ooo, and being a new-ish mom, I bet that doesn’t settle well with Emory.”
“She’s never rude to my mom, and she sits patiently and listens, but man oh man, the shit she tells me at night when we’re in our bed alone. It’s made me believe that I truly married a saint.”
“How old is Matty now?” Carson asks.
“Two.” We head out of the locker room and down the hall toward the batting cages. “Remember, you went to his birthday party?”
“Oh shit, that’s right.” Carson drags his hand over his face. “Hell, man, I don’t even know what day it is anymore. So Matty is two and your mom is still offering advice?”
“Oh yeah, there’s advice for every stage. The one good thing about my mom visiting for a month—”
“A month?” Carson yells.
“Yeah, she wanted longer, but I told her I’d fly her back for Christmas. It’s been a battle. This Christmas, she’s going to look to permanently locate herself in Chicago because she can’t stand being away from Matty. She’s been going back and forth, but she can’t take it anymore.”
“I fear the day she moves here . . . for you two of course.”
“There will have to be boundaries set for sure.” We make a left and walk into the empty batting cages. No surprise there. A lot of the guys are still on vacation or visiting family. “Anyway, the one good thing about having her here is her cooking. She insists on cooking whatever we want and Emory has taken advantage of it.”
“Oh, do tell.” Carson laughs. “Is that her revenge?”
“Pretty sure, especially since she requested chocolate soufflé the other day. My mom spent the entire day in the kitchen trying to make them right. She stayed out of Emory’s hair for a good eight hours.”
Carson twists at the waist with his bat in hand, warming up his back. I do the same. “She’s sneaky. Your mom might think she has the upper hand, but we all know it’s Emory who’s boss.”
“Oh, I know. She’s fucking smart. She knows exactly what she’s doing. Tonight, she asked for homemade ravioli.”
“Hell, for real?” Carson does a few knee-highs before heading down to the pitching screen and balls. “I’m coming over for dinner.”
“Not sure that’s a good idea. From the picture my mom showed me, it might not be pretty tonight. Emory requested naturally dyed purple ravioli, since Matty loves colors. My mom’s hands are covered in beet extract. I don’t think they’ll ever be the same.”
Carson throws his head back and laughs. “That’s great, man.” He nods toward me. “You ready?”
I get in position in the batter’s box and nod at him. He tosses me a ball right down the middle and I smash it right back up the middle. It feels good.
Really fucking good.
“I can see those weights are kicking in,” he calls out, his composure completely shifting. Now I’ve got his full focus. And by the slight smile on his face, this is probably what he needed. Something to clear his head. A muscle-memory workout. Safer than talking for guys, at times.
But I’m still curious what’s bothering him. We’ve been friends for over ten years now. He’s one of my closest buds.
I’m not going to push it now, but I won’t let it go either. Any good friend would do the same thing. I’ll let it marinate and then come back to it.
And of course, I’m going to go to the number-one source of knowledge: my wife.
If she doesn’t know what’s going on with Carson and Milly, then it truly is something they don’t want to talk about.
***
EMORY
“Babe, I’m home,” Knox calls out as the front door closes.
“Shhhh,” I say from the couch. “Matty is still napping and if you wake him, I’ll murder you.”
He holds his hands up in the air and takes a step back so his back hits the front door. “Whoa, what a greeting.”
I look behind me toward the kitchen where Knox’s mom is and then back at him. “It’s been a day,” I whisper.
His face morphs into understanding, and he comes over to the couch where he slips in behind me so I’m leaning against his chest. He sweeps my hair to the side and presses a soft kiss to my neck.