Grand Slam

by Heidi McLaughlin

  I replay each point over and over in my head and still come back to the missing fifth one. “I’d want more. And I don’t think you can give that to me.”

  “Like what?” he asks, pulling my hands into his. I willingly let him hold them, because being held by him is worth the heartache I’ll suffer later.

  “I want a marriage, Travis. I want a husband who loves and cherishes me. I don’t want to wonder where my husband is at night, or if I’m going to find some strange woman roaming around the house with barely any clothes on. I don’t want to find random hotel receipts or underwear in your pants pockets when I go to wash your clothes.”

  Travis leans forward and kisses me softly. “For years, my family was plagued with rumors about my father’s infidelity. I saw what it did to my mother, how it affected her day in and day out. I asked her one time why she stayed, and she said because she loved my father more than anything. I never understood what that meant until now. I can promise you, Saylor, that as long as you’re my wife, I’ll be your husband. My dick will only leave my pants when you say, and if that’s never, then so be it.” He tilts his head and gives me a cocky smile as my mouth drops open. “I’m serious, Saylor. Marry me? Let me fix all these problems that I seem to have created for you.”

  “What about Boston, and the team?”

  His thumb rubs over his left ring finger. “If you want to stay in Boston, we can, but Florida is nice, especially during the winter. As for the Renegades…” He pauses and shakes his head. “I think I’m done, Saylor. This case…after the arrest, the city has turned on me.”

  “Jeffrey can fix that for you.”

  He shrugs. “Maybe, but spring training is nine weeks away, and there’s been a lot of damage done.” Travis perches on the edge of the chair. “Marry me, Saylor. I know this isn’t the proposal you’ve probably dreamed of, and I’m probably not the man you thought would be asking you, but right now, we can make things better for the both of us by doing this. And after a year or so, you can walk away.”

  A marriage of convenience isn’t unheard of, and having the money to fight Elijah would be a godsend. Lucy does love Travis, and the thought of seeing her happy is worth the sacrifice.

  What sacrifice? I ask myself. Travis Kidd wants to marry me and promised to be faithful.

  “Okay,” I tell him. “I’ll marry you.”

  Travis Kidd can’t seem to stay out of the news, and while most of you are on pins and needles about his case and upcoming trial date, we bring you something interesting…

  The staff at the BoRe Blogger has had the privilege of covering everything Kidd does, not only on the field but off as well, and honestly, we don’t know what to believe.

  However, it is being speculated that Kidd and his publicist, Saylor Blackwell, who we know have been getting cozy, have applied for a marriage license.

  Now, ladies, before you freak out, we can’t confirm. We can only go by the fact that they were both present at the county clerk’s office, applying for one.

  We reached out to Kidd for a comment, but when asked if the rumors are true, he stated, “Call my publicist.”

  Of course, when we called Ms. Blackwell, she stated, “I don’t comment on my clients’ personal relationships, but Mr. Kidd will be present at the New Year’s Eve Rotary celebration.”

  More to come, Renegades fans. We promise!

  The BoRe Blogger

  Thirty-One

  Travis

  Within an hour of applying for our marriage license, the news has spread like wildfire, which is something I wanted to avoid. I had thought that by flirting with the clerk, she’d keep our impending nuptials on the down low, but as soon as we left the office, my phone lit up like a Christmas tree with tweets that Travis Kidd is officially off the market. Even as I read those words, I realized I liked the sound of them.

  This is probably the craziest, most harebrained idea I have ever come up with, but I’m happy I did. Our marriage may be unconventional and for the purpose of saving both of us, but truth be told, I’m in love with her.

  Once we signed the dotted line, we both rattled off text messages to our parents, letting them know before any of the media outlets got wind of what was going on. My father didn’t have much to say, but my mother went on and on about how excited she was to finally have a daughter and, most importantly, a granddaughter, and asked if I was planning to adopt Lucy.

  Honestly, the thought hadn’t crossed my mind. Initially, my intention was to keep her with Saylor and keep this family that I’m creating together for my own good. I’m a better person when they’re around. But the idea of Lucy being a Kidd is appealing and something I may have to broach with her father. I know he doesn’t like me, but there’s a long list of men like that out there who feel the same, so he can take a number and get in line. The simple fact is that his daughter adores me, and his ex is going to be my wife. And let’s not forget the fact that I have spent a hell of a lot more time with his daughter than he has. Put us side by side and that girl is running to me each and every time.

  Coming up with this idea was not easy. After I left Saylor’s apartment, I sat outside her building, contemplating my next step. Going to Irvin was always a priority, but I needed something that would protect the both of us. The only thing I can’t prevent is if she’s arrested for a probation violation. Everything else I can fix, or at least attempt to.

  Finding her in Irvin’s office was dumb luck. I went there to tell him what I knew and to beg for his help. I never even had a second thought after I heard her ask why she should go to jail for a guy who has fucked half the city. The comment hurt. But it’s the truth. She shouldn’t. And neither should I. From the get-go Saylor has backed me and tried to make everyone around us see that I was innocent. Even Irvin started to second-guess me after my arrest. I get it, I do, but it fucking hurts when the man you’re paying to keep your ass out of jail starts to wonder if his client is an abusive asshole.

  “What’d your mom say?” I ask, taking Saylor’s gloved hand in mine as I walk her back to my SUV.

  “She sent me a string of emojis.” I open the door for her and make sure she’s seated before running around to the driver’s side.

  “Of what? Like, a sad face, tears? I mean, is she excited, apprehensive?” Pressing the ignition button, I make sure Saylor’s seat warmer is on and let the car heat up before we head to our next destination.

  “Well, there’s a champagne bottle, a thumbs-up, a smiley face with hearts, the praying hands, the man and woman with the heart, and…”

  “And what?”

  Saylor sighs and looks out the window, avoiding eye contact. She looks down at her phone and shakes her head. “And she says, ‘Show me the ring’ but uses the emoji for that.”

  “So let’s show her,” I say, leaning across the console to give her a kiss. “Let’s go get your ring.”

  “I don’t need a ring, Travis. It’s not like this is a real marriage.” Her voice wavers at the end, causing me to slightly move back.

  “This is real for me, Saylor. I care about you and want to protect you. Besides, I have a feeling we were well on our way to falling in love before complications arose.” I know I should’ve told her right then that I am in love with her, but I hold back. Saylor seems to be apprehensive. I get it. I sprung this on her as a way to get us both out of our legal troubles.

  She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to. Regardless of how she feels, I’m confident in my feelings toward her. Saylor does, however, reach over and grab my hand, and when I look at her out of the corner of my eye, she’s smiling. It may not be directed toward me, but the fact that she’s touching me and grinning like someone who’s about to get married speaks volumes.

  The drive to the jewelers isn’t as painful as I thought. I expected to feel a rush of panic, for my palms to start sweating or my heart rate to skyrocket. But even as I get out of the car and help her out, I’m cool as a cucumber.

  Inside, the saleswoman behind the cou
nter greets us with a smile. “Can I help you find something?”

  “We’re looking for engagement rings,” Saylor says.

  “Actually, wedding sets,” I interject, smiling at Saylor. I plan to wear a ring as well so everyone knows that I’m spoken for.

  We are directed over to the side where their wedding pieces are. I can’t recall a time when I’ve purchased jewelry for anyone and am floored by the number of rings we can choose from.

  “Do you see one you like?” I ask her.

  “They’re all so pricey.”

  “That’s not what I asked, Saylor.” I can see it in her eyes. There’s nervousness present in the way she’s acting. I can’t tell if she’s having second thoughts already or if she’s worried about the money I’m spending.

  “Excuse me, but can you measure her ring finger so we know what size we’re looking for?”

  “Sure,” the woman says. Saylor pulls her glove off and extends her hand, letting the lady measure. “She’s a five and a half.”

  “Great—thanks.” I motion for Saylor to follow me to the other side of the room. “I’m doing this all wrong, and I can see the wheels spinning. You’re worried about cost and all that shit when it shouldn’t fucking matter. I should’ve been here this morning and had a ring picked out for you, but I’m an impulsive moron and didn’t think about this part until I had already asked you. So why don’t you go wait in the car and I’ll pick out what I want people to see every time you walk into a room, answer a phone, or open a door?”

  “Okay.”

  I hand her the key fob and watch her walk out and climb into my car. I turn back to the clerk, who is pulling out trays of diamond solitaires for me to look at.

  “She’s beautiful and very lucky.”

  Shaking my head, I say, “Nah, I’m the lucky one.” I look over my shoulder quickly to make sure she’s still in the car. Yeah, I’m that paranoid that she may change her mind before I can get her back to the courthouse in three days.

  “What’s the biggest stone you have?” I don’t want anything too gaudy sitting on her finger, but I want something sizeable. There has to be no question in anyone’s mind that she’s my wife and that she’s spoken for. Something small won’t do.

  The saleswoman returns with another tray. “These are shown in platinum, but the stones can be changed into a different band if you wanted gold.”

  Every ring in the case sparkles, and the decision is hard. “That one,” I say, pointing to a single diamond on a platinum band.

  “It’s understated, but at three carats it definitely makes a splash.”

  I hold the ring in my hand even though I don’t have a clue as to what I’m looking at. I should’ve done some research, but we all know that’s not how I operate. One thing’s certain—this isn’t the right ring. “Hmm. I want something square.”

  “Sure,” she says, pulling out another tray. She doesn’t need to know that it’s a reference to baseball and that if I’m giving up the game I love, at least I’ll be able to look at a diamond on Saylor’s finger and remember how she came into my life.

  “That one.” I point to a diamond-shaped solitaire on a platinum band.

  “Four carats.” She hands it to me as if I’m going to try it on.

  “This is the one I want. What size is it?”

  “Six, which is the standard size. We can have it sized, though, to fit her finger.” She motions toward the front window of the store. I turn and see Saylor looking my way. I wave, hoping that she can see me.

  “How long will that take?”

  She goes over to a book and flips through the pages. “It looks like we are about three weeks out.”

  I shake my head. “That won’t do,” I tell her. “Can I pay extra to pick it up tomorrow?”

  “I’m sorry, but he’s on vacation until next week. The holidays and all…” She nods toward the back, where I’m assuming the jeweler works.

  “Okay, I’ll take it anyway, but I need to add a band for her, and I’ll need one as well.”

  The saleswoman shows me a compilation of bands that would work with the ring for Saylor, as well as points out what is popular for men right now. I finally decide on the last two pieces, and she sets Saylor’s rings in one box and mine in another as I pay for them. I thank her for my purchase and exit the store.

  “You found one?” Saylor asks as I get back into my SUV. I set the bag down in the middle, letting her eye it for a bit. I know it’s mean, but I can’t help but laugh.

  “I did. I fucking love it. It’s going to look hot on your finger.”

  She tries to hide her eye roll from me, but I catch it. Pulling her face toward me, I search her eyes for any discontent. “Don’t do that, Saylor. This will be a good thing. I promise.”

  “I know, but I can’t help but think that you might find someone else.”

  “Sort of hard to do when I’m not looking. I’ll be good to you—I promise.” I kiss her once for good measure before starting up the vehicle and entering the city traffic. I want to take her back to her place and give her the ring, but the thought of having her ex show up isn’t something that is sitting well with me. Instead, we head to my place. Since our news is already out there, it doesn’t make sense to hide her from the media that has been camping out at my house this entire time.

  When I pull up, the cameras are poised and ready. Saylor looks fearful even though she’s been here before. I suppose this time is different, though, now that she’s not working and this is very much a social call.

  “Travis, are the rumors true?” the reporters start asking as soon as I get out. Thankfully they aren’t blocking my way to the other side of the car, and I’m able to be a gentleman and help Saylor out.

  “Ms. Blackwell, how does this change your working relationship with Travis?”

  “Mr. Kidd, is this a publicity move to make you look better in the eyes of the court and the public opinion polls?”

  The last question irritates me, but I don’t let that show on my face as I lead Saylor into my house. Closing the door blocks out the noise from outside, giving us some peace and quiet. “They’ll be gone soon.”

  “Yeah,” she says, standing in the middle of my foyer with her hands pushed deep into her coat pockets.

  “Let me take your coat.”

  “I can’t stay long. My mom has dinner plans tonight, so I have to pick up Lucy.”

  “We,” I say, correcting her.

  “Excuse me?”

  “We have to pick up Lucy. I told you, Saylor, I’m in this with both feet. This isn’t going to be some mistake I make or something I regret when I wake up tomorrow. If Lucy needs to be picked up, we do it together.”

  She shakes her head. “Elijah—he could show up at any time.”

  “So stay here.” I spread my arms out wide. My house is open concept with three bedrooms and more than enough room for both of them.

  “I don’t know how to explain this to Lucy,” she says as she starts to walk around. I place my hands on her shoulders and guide her down the hall and into the guest bedroom.

  “This can be Lucy’s room, or she can go upstairs. There’s another room up there with a private bath.”

  “Where will I sleep?”

  “With me,” I say, turning her in my arms. “Before your ex showed up, we were on our way to building a relationship. We may be doing things backwards, but I think that is who we are.”

  She nods and turns around to look at the room. “I really love my apartment, though.”

  “Yeah, me too.” I sigh as I pull her to my chest. “Remember this will only be temporary unless we decide to stay in Boston.”

  Saylor heads for the stairs and checks out the third bedroom. After I’ve given her the grand tour, including a stop in the bedroom I’m hoping to share with her, I bring her back into the living room.

  “I should’ve done this earlier, but sometimes words are more important.” I pull the box out of the bag and drop to one knee. “Be unconvent
ional with me, Saylor.”

  Thirty-Two

  Saylor

  Now that I’ve said yes, I’m having second thoughts. I suppose every woman at some point in her life dreams of that spur-of-the-moment proposal when the man you’ve been pining for comes and sweeps you off your feet, or in my case, storms in to try to save the day.

  Any woman would be lucky to have someone like Travis Kidd getting down on his knee to propose, but I don’t feel that way. I feel confused, lost, and more alone now than I did this morning. I can’t explain it, but something in my heart tells me that this is wrong—that marrying Travis isn’t going to fix anything but make everything worse.

  Yet Travis says he’s going to fix things. When he said those words to me this morning, I had no idea what to expect. And now here I am, standing in his house with the most beautiful engagement ring on my finger from this man who has offered me financial security if I marry him. His bank account will be at my disposal to fight against Elijah. That in and of itself should be enough, except I’m in this situation because of him. If only he would’ve listened to me each time I told him I couldn’t be with him, Elijah wouldn’t be taking me to task over my parenting skills.

  I don’t think Travis realizes what he’s getting into. His lifestyle is drastically different from mine. I tried to explain to him earlier that I don’t want a sham of a marriage where my known playboy of a husband is out gallivanting, picking up random women and making headlines with his philandering ways.