I smile too, relaxing back into the brown couch. “It’s impossible to call him anything else.”
She swings her foot back and forth. “How does it feel to call him that?”
I half want to ask her the same question. How did it feel when she met the woman who became her wife?
Maybe I’m not as messed up as I thought. Maybe I’ve had enough of a foundation in other ways—my own beliefs about who I give my business to, the lessons I learned from it, the love shared by my mother and then my stepfather. I have great friendships, a sport I love. Maybe I simply needed to get out of the way of my own happiness.
Carla has been my guide in getting this far. My Sherpa.
“It feels great,” I say, relieved. “The last few months have been . . .” I think about these recent times with Grant. I haven’t seen him, in person, but I’ve learned everything I needed. “I thought I needed to stick to a plan. To have everything in order. But maybe what I really needed was to know we could be together like this and not lose ourselves,” I tell Carla. “That I could trust myself with his heart because the last thing I want is to hurt him. Maybe I needed to know, too, he could handle baseball and me.”
“That is a lot to handle,” she deadpans.
“It is. But look at him. He’s killing it. He’s amazing on the field, and he’s amazing with me.” I scrub a hand across my jaw. “I’m so damn lucky.”
She smiles, even bigger this time, more pleased. “Seems you’re having a relationship. Maybe even a healthy one?”
I catch myself looking down to hide my smile. But why should I conceal it?
I meet her eyes. “I think so.”
“So, let me turn your questions around. Do you think you’re ready? Do you think you’ve been getting away with murder? Do you think you’re going to backslide?”
For the first time in a year of work, I answer with certainty. “I’m ready. I’m not getting away with murder. And I won’t let myself slide into old habits.”
That night, I head to the game in the Bronx and go on a tear on the diamond as we play the San Francisco Dragons, slamming a three-run homer over the left-field fence that sews up a win for my team.
When I go home to my apartment on Park Avenue, I call Grant. “Know what’s coming up soon?”
“Our day off?”
I smile. “Yep.”
“Can’t wait. I have this charity thing for the Alliance the night before. Reese is doing social media for it, and she found this trendy art gallery in the Marina with a terrific view of the bay. Though, if you were in town, I’d probably skip the silent auction and cuddle up with you.” He clears his throat. “And by cuddle, I mean fuck and cuddle.”
“I know exactly what you mean, and I can’t wait for both the fuck-fest and the cuddle-fest. But the event sounds cool too—the type of thing I’d want to attend with you someday. Go together, hold your hand, kiss you on the cheek.” Those are my couple goals, and I want to reach them.
“We would be so cute. They’d love us,” Grant says.
I laugh. “Poster men for the Alliance, eh?”
“Well . . . if the shoe fits. Too bad you’re only in town one night. The silent auction kicks off a weekend-long carnival the Alliance is doing for teens and local high schoolers.” He tells me more about the carnival and his role, and it sounds like a blast.
“I wish I were there to go with you.”
“Going with you sounds as nice as a cuddle-fest.”
“It does.” I clear my throat and broach a topic I’ve been wanting to talk about for three months. “When I see you, do you want to try to figure out how to do this thing?”
“You mean like long-term?”
“I do mean long-term, Grant. I feel long-term for you. All kinds of long-term,” I say, my heart thrumming.
He hums like I’ve made him so damn happy. “I do want to figure it out. I want to be with you,” he says. He is as serious as I am, and that’s all that matters to me.
We’re on the same page.
If only our circumstances would align a little more.
The next morning, I go for a run in Central Park with Holden, who’s in town for our series with the Dragons. As we round the Reservoir, we catch up on things with his new coach, then life, then dating.
“Are you still all nose to the grindstone, focused only on baseball?” I ask.
“Pretty much. I haven’t seen anyone for the last two years.” Then, he adds like it’s a secret, “Well, except for this one woman.”
“Then, there is someone?”
“Sort of,” he says, as noncommittal as one can get.
Maybe it’s the session yesterday with Carla. Maybe it’s the end of years of uncertainty. But fuck noncommittal.
“Why ‘sort of’?” I demand. “You either know or you don’t know. What’s the story?”
“She was out of the country for a while. It sounds crazy, because I didn’t even know her that well, but now I do, and I think she’s why I didn’t date for two years. Pretty sure in some ways, I was waiting for her to come back.”
I shake my head. “Man, you’ve got a second chance with someone you waited two years for, and you’re only on the sort of path with her?”
“It’s not that simple,” he protests.
“Second chances never are, but if you’ve got one, don’t squander it. Do everything to make it happen,” I say, my tone way intense for a morning run.
Or maybe it’s exactly as intense as it should be.
Because Holden’s not the only one who needs to follow that advice.
May
35
Grant
Twenty-four hours.
I’m seeing Declan in twenty-four hours. I haven’t seen him since February and this sex-camel lifestyle sucks.
Though, boyfriend desert is more like it. I’m trudging through the sand, trying to reach the oasis of Declan. I miss all of my man. I want to curl up with him and kiss him. I want to fuck him and talk to him. Hell, I want to learn to cook with him.
But, between baseball and charity work, friends and family, the days go by quickly. On Wednesday morning, I can’t sleep, knowing Declan is landing in this city tomorrow night. After a morning run and a long gym workout, I swing by The Lazy Hammock before it opens.
“What does it take to get some service around here?” I say as I stride into the joint.
River’s hunched over the bar, working on his laptop. “It takes my co-owner dishing the details on his love life,” my inked business partner says.
As I get near, he swivels his laptop away from me and looks up. I arch a brow as I head to the counter in the empty establishment. “Dude, were you just watching porn at work? Is that why you hid your laptop?”
Flicking his blond hair off his forehead, River rolls his brown eyes. “Why is that your default? Pot, kettle, perhaps?”
Laughing, I grab a stool. “You can bust me on a lot of things, but it’s pretty safe to say I don’t watch porn while I’m catching a game.”