by Tara Sivec
My hands clench into fists at my sides and I get ready to spew as much hate at him as I can, but someone beats me to it.
“Shut the hell up, Jefferson,” my mother reprimands.
I didn’t even see her come down to the dugout, but I notice she’s carrying a small cooler filled with water bottles and must have been passing them out while I was with Lucy.
My father actually has the foresight to look embarrassed.
“Grace, I was just—”
“You were just, what? Making yourself look like an ass?” she interrupts him. “Keep your mouth shut about Lucy. You say one more unkind word about her and I will throw your shit out on the front lawn and you can find a new place to live.”
I don’t know who is more shocked about my mother’s threat, my father or me. We’re both wearing equal looks of disbelief on our faces, but mine is tinged with amusement that I can’t quite keep contained. I smile widely at my mother and she gives me a wink before going back to passing out bottles of water.
Moving away from my father before I punch him in the face, I start clapping and shouting as loud as I can for Lucy as the pitcher finishes up a couple practice pitches.
Pressing my hands together in silent prayer, I rest my fingers against my lips and hold my breath as Lucy gets into the stance I showed her and chokes up on the bat. The pitcher winds up and throws as hard as he can. Even with the entire park screaming and stomping their feet, I still hear the loud crack of the bat over the noise as it connects with the ball. My hands slowly drop from my face and my eyes widen in shock as I watch the ball Lucy just hit soar through the air and into the outfield.
The entire dugout begins screaming and hugging and jumping up and down. I start to join them when I realize Lucy is still standing on home plate with the bat in her hand, staring into the outfield in shock while the runner from third is almost home.
“LUCY! DROP THE BAT AND RUN, BABY!” I shout to her with a laugh.
She jumps out of her trance, tosses the bat to the side and takes off towards first. The guys in the outfield are scrambling to get to the ball since they all moved infield when she got up to bat. They’ve got a long way to run since she cracked the hell out of that thing. It bounced almost to the fence line.
Our entire team leaves the dugout and we’re standing along the first base line, cheering all the runners as they make it over home plate. The other team is screaming at the guys in the outfield, telling them to move their asses. Lucy rounds third when they finally get the ball and heave it infield. She slides across home plate like a pro, kicking up dust all over the place, right as the ball comes sailing in to the catcher.
“SAFE!” Butch shouts.
We all charge the mound, cheering and hollering and I shove people out of the way to get to Lucy, forgetting about the fact that we aren’t together and this isn’t a softball game of the past. I scoop her up into my arms and jump up and down. She wraps her arms around my shoulders and her legs around my hips and laughs as I chant her name with everyone else.
“Damn, if I’d known telling you to visualize my face as the ball would get you to hit a grand slam, I would’ve told you that years ago,” I laugh.
She throws her head back and laughs harder as everyone pats her on the back and congratulates her.
“Luce?”
Lucy’s laughter dies and her smile suddenly falls. She gently pats my shoulders to get me to put her down and I slowly lower her to the ground as her legs slide from around my waist. She untangles herself from my arms and turns to face Shit-Stain-Ford.
He grabs onto both of her hands and pulls her away from me and I immediately want to wrap my arms around her and bring her back in a jealous tug of war.
“I was going to wait to do this until later, but we might as well celebrate your win right here in front of everyone.”
He gives me a quick glare that goes unnoticed by Lucy since she’s currently looking over her shoulder at me. I slide my hands in my pockets and pretend like I’m not wondering what the fuck he’s doing.
He starts lowering himself to the ground and I feel bile rising up in my throat as Lucy whips her head around to look at him.
“What are you doing? Get up!” she whispers frantically.
He’s on one knee at this point and I suddenly realize exactly what he’s doing. The prick is proposing to my fucking wife and I want to beat his ass more than I ever have before.
“I know we haven’t known each other long, but I love you, Lucy Butler,” the motherfucking piece of shit pompous asshole tells her as he pulls a light blue Tiffany’s box from his shirt pocket and holds it open in front of her.
The diamond is bigger than her fucking finger and sparkles in the sunshine. Everyone gathered around home plate has quieted down and they’re watching this whole shit show unfold five feet away from me.
“Will you marry me, Lucy?”
I don’t bother to wait for her reply. I turn and walk off of the field, wishing I still drank. An entire bottle of whiskey sounds really good right about now, especially when I hear a loud cheer erupt from the field, most likely in celebration of Lucy’s engagement.
Chapter 31
Lucy
Present Day
As soon as Fisher walks away from home plate, I let out the breath I was holding. Thank God Bob, who owns the souvenir store, needs to take a few practice pitches so I can pull myself together and try to remember all the tips Fisher gave me instead of thinking about how much I wanted to feel his hands someplace other than on top of mine.
I’ve been avoiding him all day and I feel like a coward. He’s tried talking to me several times, but I’ve made up one excuse after another and walked away from him. I want to talk to him, I really do, but I’m having a hard time thinking about anything other than sex when he’s within two feet of me. It doesn’t help that he’s wearing his usual pair of cargo shorts that make his ass look fantastic and a three-quarter-length baseball-style t-shirt that molds his upper body and shows off all of his muscles. Every time he’s been up to bat, I’ve been glued to the fence, panting like a dog in heat.
Instead of picturing Fisher’s face as Bob winds up and throws the ball, I picture his father’s arrogant mug flying towards me and I swing as hard as I can. The smack of the ball against the bat stings my hands and I stand frozen in complete shock as it flies above everyone’s heads. I hear people screaming and clapping, but I don’t move. I think I’m supposed to move. I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to run, but I can’t stop staring at the ball soaring into the outfield. I suddenly hear Fisher scream louder than anyone else and when he tacks on the word “baby” at the end of his shout, my heart skips a beat and my feet start moving. I can’t wipe the huge grin off of my face as my feet pound into the dirt and I run as fast as I can around the bases. When I’m halfway between second and third, I see the outfielders get to the ball and throw it towards home. I push my legs harder and, even though the entire team is now out of the dugout and on the sidelines, I can only see Fisher standing there, jumping up and down with a huge smile on his face.
I slide into home just as the ball zooms into the catcher’s mitt and when Butch announces I’m safe, I scream through the cloud of dust surrounding me. Pushing myself up from the ground, I quickly shove my way through the crowd of people jumping and shouting around me until I find Fisher. I throw myself into his arms and he lifts me up, holding me tight. It feels like we’re the only two people on the field. It feels like the last few years never happened and we’re back in time, happily married and enjoying yet another Fourth of July softball game together. I take his hat off of my head so I can see his face better, clutching it in my hands behind his head. I get so lost in the moment, smiling and laughing with him, that I don’t see Stanford walk out onto the field and stand next to us until he says my name.
I don’t want to move out of Fisher’s arms. It feels so right being wrapped up in him, feeling his heart beat against mine and listening to him laugh, just like the old days
. Unfortunately, I’m technically still dating Stanford, even though I’ve already decided to end things with him. He’s a good man and I don’t want to embarrass him in front of all these people. It’s bad enough I was clutching onto my ex-husband like I never wanted to let him go while he watched. I will not be the whore Fisher’s father accuses me of being, and I can’t figure this thing out with Fisher until I end things with Stanford.
When Fisher releases me, Stanford grabs my hand and pulls me closer to him. I take one last look at Fisher over my shoulder, trying to tell him with my eyes and my smile that I’m sorry. I hear a gasp from somewhere in the crowd around us and turn away from Fisher to see Stanford down on one knee in front of me.
Oh, no! Oh, my God, what is happening right now?!
Stanford smiles up at me and I see him reaching into the front pocket of his neatly pressed, button-down shirt. I stupidly ask him what he’s doing, even though it’s perfectly CLEAR what’s going on, and I tell him to get up. He doesn’t listen, of course, instead going right into his speech about how he loves me before he asks me to marry him. I am stunned completely stupid. My mouth is hanging open like I’m trying to catch flies and he slides the ring on my finger before I even have a chance to give him an answer. It’s huge and heavy and it feels completely foreign on my finger. I immediately hate it and want to yank it off and toss it into the outfield where my ball went. Nothing makes me miss the simple quarter carat solitaire and plain gold band that Fisher gave me more than this monstrosity weighing down my finger.
I’m so busy missing those rings and wishing I’d never sent them back with the divorce papers that I’m in a complete daze. When my eyes fill with tears of regret for something I no longer have, Stanford takes it as a sign of acceptance of his proposal, jumping up from the ground and wrapping me in his arms as the crowd around us starts chanting my name again and clapping.
Why are they so happy when all I want to do is cry? I search behind me for Fisher and I don’t see him anywhere. I wish he had been my voice when I couldn’t speak, but why the hell would he do that when I’ve been avoiding him and haven’t given him any solid proof that I still love him and miss him? I wish he would have told Stanford to fuck off and that I was his. I wish I could say that to Stanford right now, but Jesus, did he HAVE to do this in front of all these people? I don’t want to hurt him when he’s been nothing but kind and sweet to me, and I certainly don’t want to embarrass him in front of the entire town by telling him I don’t love him and I never will. I have no idea what he was thinking by proposing to me. We haven’t even had sex yet and he thinks he’s in love with me and wants to spend the rest of his life with me? Is he insane? I clutch Fisher’s ball cap to my chest and my throat burns with the need to cry.
The crowd gets more and more worked up with their chanting and clapping and I’m still wondering why the hell they’re so happy about this when suddenly, ice cold water is being dumped all over my head. It pours down over top of me like a waterfall, ice cubes bouncing off of my shoulders and getting stuck down the front of my tank top. I sputter and let out a few choking laughs as I wipe the water from my eyes, opening them to see the crowd completely surrounding me in a tight circle, bouncing up and down.
“Lucy, we’ve decided you’re the MVP of today’s game!” someone shouts.
“We couldn’t have won the game without you!”
“Lucy! Lucy! Lucy!”
I get lost in their excitement and forget about the mess that is my life as I jump up and down with them, laughing and shouting. I feel a hand grip my arm tightly and I’m tugged out of the circle of celebration mid-bounce. I stumble as Stanford pulls me a few feet away from everyone, finally dropping my arm when we’re out of earshot from the crowd.
I rub at the spot on my arm he was clutching and shoot him a dirty look. “What the hell, Stanford? That hurt.”
“WHAT are you doing?” he cuts me off angrily, pointing to the group of people still shouting and high-fiving.
“Um, it’s called celebrating, Stanford,” I reply sarcastically.
I’ve never spoken to him with anything other than kindness, but he’s really pissing me off today. First with the proposal, and now with the attitude.
“Have you taken a look at yourself? It’s indecent,” he tells me crossly.
Realizing that I’m still sopping wet from the bucket of ice water that was poured over my head, I look down at myself and see that my white tank top now makes me a contender for a wet t-shirt contest. The pink lace bra I put on this morning wasn’t obvious when the shirt was dry, but now it’s all you can see since the wet material of my shirt is sticking to me like a second skin.
I try to pull it away from my body, but as soon as I let go, it just slaps right back against me. I just shrug and laugh at the fact that I look like a drowned rat.
“This is NOT funny, Lucy. Everyone is staring. And those shorts? They barely cover you. You realize that when we’re married you’re going to have to dress the part of a proper Southern lady, not like a seventeen-year-old girl,” Stanford informs me.
I really try to stay calm, but the accumulation of the day’s events is wearing on me, and I suddenly feel like a dam about to burst. I forget about the fact that I didn’t want to embarrass him in front of everyone, especially since that’s exactly what he’s doing to ME right now.
“If everyone is staring, it’s because YOU’RE making a scene,” I inform him. “And you JUST proposed to me five minutes ago. I didn’t even give you a fucking answer, and you’re already planning what it will be like when we’re married?”
Stanford reaches for my arm and I twist out of his reach.
“Will you keep your voice down? My goodness, what has gotten into you today?” he demands. “You are not the type of woman who uses such trashy language.”
I can’t help it, I throw my head back and laugh. I laugh until my stomach hurts and I can barely catch my breath. Stanford stares at me like I’ve lost my mind and who knows, maybe I have? I lost my mind when I started dating this man, thinking he was exactly what I needed. All I’ve done for the last few months is try to be someone I’m not. I’ve dressed the part, I’ve talked the part and I’ve acted the part and none of it has made me happy. I’ve been mad at Fisher for hiding part of himself from me when that’s exactly what I’ve been doing with Stanford. I’m not a proper Southern woman and I never will be.
“You have no idea what type of woman I am. I’ve been pretending to be someone that could be worthy of you and it’s all bullshit,” I tell him as I grab onto the hem of my tank top. “I like to curse, I like to be loud and I like to wear whatever the fuck I want.”
Peeling the wet tank top from my body and sliding it over my head, I chuck it at Stanford’s chest. His hands fly up and he scrambles to grab it, staring at me with wide eyes. Wearing nothing but my “indecent” black shorts and my pink lace bra, I tug the engagement ring off of my finger and toss it towards him, too. He quickly drops my wet tank top to catch the ring.
“I don’t want to marry you. I don’t want to marry ANYONE who is embarrassed by me and I can see in your eyes that you are completely appalled by my behavior. Well, TOUGH SHIT.”
Throwing my arms wide, I spin in a circle, noticing that the crowd who was cheering and calling my name a few minutes ago is now trying to stifle their laughs.
“Hey, you guys! Do you have a problem with what I’m wearing?” I shout to the crowd.
“Nope.”
“Hell, no!”
“Lookin’ good, Lucy!”
“If I had a body like that, I’d NEVER wear clothes.”
Turning back around to face Stanford, I smile at the horrified expression on his face. “I thought I wasn’t good enough for you and that I’d never fit in your world. Turns out it’s the other way around. YOU aren’t good enough for ME. And you definitely don’t fit in here.”
The crowd goes wild behind me, hooting and hollering as I turn away from Stanford and walk right over to them with
my head held high.
“So, does anyone have a shirt I can borrow?”
Everyone starts laughing and a few of the guys take their own shirts off and toss them towards me. I throw one on and put Fisher’s wet baseball cap back on my head. I get a few pats on the back and everyone congratulates me for kicking the stiff to the curb as I walk away from them and head off the field.
As soon as I get to the fence line where the gate is, I see Jefferson standing there with his arms crossed. I should probably turn and find another gate to walk through so I don’t have to deal with him, but I’m on a roll right now. If he wants to give me shit, I’m going to make him regret it.
He’s blocking the gate by the time I get up to him and I have no choice but to ask him as politely as I can to ask him to move.
“You’re in my way.”
Okay, so polite has obviously flown the coop.
“You surprise me, Miss Butler,” Jefferson tells me with a smile on his face.
I’m a little taken aback by his smile and I make the mistake of pausing instead of trying to shoulder my way around him.
“Yet another golden goose you threw away. Another man who would have tossed his money at you just like my stupid son and you ruined it. It’s quite funny when you think about it,” Jefferson says with a laugh. “You could have had the inn paid off with that ring on your finger and Stanford’s last name attached to yours, but I guess that won’t be happening now, will it? Thank you for making my job easier. Looks like Butler House will belong to Fisher Bank and Trust very soon.”
I really want to tell him to go fuck himself, maybe even smack that smug look off his face, but I’m pretty sure I’ve made enough of a scene today. The town gossip mill will already be working overtime with the show I put on and I don’t need to add beating up the king of Fisher Island to the list. I swallow all of the curses I want to throw at him and lift my chin up higher, moving around him and out the gate. There’s no point giving him the satisfaction of knowing that he got to me. No point confirming that his words cut right through me and made me so angry that I want to scream.