Home Run

by Heidi McLaughlin

  But what kind of life is that for the baby? He or she will be able to watch their father on television while he entertains other kids but will only see him for three, maybe four months out of the year before he disappears again. I’m not sure I want that kind of life for my child. On the other hand, I want my child to have both its parents, which is something neither of us had growing up.

  “When will you make the move to Boston?”

  “I’m sorry, what?” Daisy’s question breaks me out of my reverie.

  “Your move to Boston? When will you be doing that?”

  “Oh, I’m not moving. My home is in Fort Myers.”

  “Oh,” she says, looking down at the table. The waitress appears at the right moment, bringing our food so we can occupy our time with eating and not the giant elephant in the room. I guess that’s what’s expected of me, that I should move here and be at Cooper’s beck and call, but what kind of life does that leave me? I don’t want to be his glorified babysitter so he can have a relationship with his child. I want a life, too. Call me selfish, but it’s the truth. I know Daisy has a life, and it sounds glamorous, but she has Ethan. I don’t have Cooper, yet. Maybe if I did, I’d feel differently.

  We finish lunch with idle chitchat, making it hard for me to get a read on Daisy. I have no doubt she’ll tell Cooper what I said, which will spur another heated debate between us. He has to know that I have no intention of staying here, even with my dad living here.

  “Are you ready for some shopping?” Daisy asks once she pays the bill.

  “Actually, I’m not feeling all that well. Can I have a rain check?”

  “Yeah, definitely. My hours are flexible so anytime you want to get together, just let me know. We’ll shop in New Hampshire, though, because it’s cheaper.”

  I barely make it to her car before I start sweating. By the time I’m sitting down, I feel dizzy and nauseous.

  “I don’t think today’s heat agrees with you,” Daisy says as she pulls out into traffic.

  “I think you’re right.” I keep my eyes closed as she navigates through the streets. “You’d think I’d be accustomed since I live in Florida.”

  “You’re pregnant, Ainsley. Anything you’re accustomed to is going to change because your body is changing daily. Foods you love may end up being foods you despise.”

  She’s right, except I never plan to lose my love for cookies. I’m not sure how I’ll cope if that happens. Stella called me lucky, bypassing the morning sickness stage, but I’m not so sure she’s right. While my mom was in the hospital, I didn’t eat a lot and felt sick often. I figured it was because my mom was dying and emotionally I couldn’t cope with it.

  Daisy parks along the street and walks me to Cooper’s apartment. I invite her in because it seems like the right thing to do, but she declines, telling me she’s going to head home and do some work, but if I need her to give her a call. I promise her that I will and thank her for a great morning as I close the door.

  As soon as I crawl into bed, Cooper calls, just as he said he would.

  “Are you having fun?”

  “No,” I tell him as I moan. “I’m not feeling well. Daisy just dropped me off.”

  “What’s wrong?” He sounds worried, and I want to believe it’s because of me, but I’m second-guessing myself on everything now.

  “I don’t know. I feel funny. I’m dizzy, and my stomach is nauseous.”

  “Is this morning sickness?”

  “How do you even know what that is?” I ask.

  “I’ve been doing some reading.”

  “Oh.” My heart swells, and tears form in my eyes. I wish he were here right now.

  “I miss you, Ainsley.”

  “Please don’t say things like that if you don’t mean them, Cooper. I may take your words the wrong way.”

  He sighs, and I can hear him adjusting the phone. “I’ve never said anything to you that I didn’t mean. I do miss you. I’ve missed you for months when I tried to trick myself into dating other people. I’ve lied for months, telling myself I was over you when I wasn’t. And even though you’re in my bed, it’s not the same and doesn’t feel real.”

  I know what he means. Each night when I crawl into bed, I’m surrounded by everything that is Cooper, and I find that it’s not enough.

  “I miss you, too,” I tell him, hoping he knows I’m telling the truth.

  “I’ll be home in a few days. Make sure you call Daisy if you need anything.”

  “I will, bye Cooper.”

  He pauses briefly before saying, “Bye.”

  He hangs up, ending our connection. I hold the phone to my ear longer than necessary before finally tossing it on the bed. I roll over and cradle my stomach, praying that Cooper wants to be in our lives, because I don’t want to do this alone.

  Chapter 33

  Cooper

  The afternoon sun is blazing, and for the life of me, I can’t understand why we had a noon start today. It’s the bottom of the seventh, and we’re down by two runs. For each run we bat in, they bat in two. It’s a topsy-turvy type of game and exciting for the fans, not so much for the players. We like a lead. We like things to be comfortable and not stress us out, unless of course you’re the closing pitcher. They seem to like having the game on the line and will even lose the lead we’ve gained so they feel more like they are in control. If you ask me, that is just plain fucked up, and I sometimes want to wring the closers neck. We work hard to give them that cushion; they just need to finish the game already.

  I thought, with Ainsley being back in my life, my game would tank. However, that doesn’t seem to be the case. This week on the road, I’ve racked up at least two RBIs per game and stolen three bases. I’m faring a lot better than I was during spring training when my father convinced me that she was too much of a distraction. Truth is, I probably wasn’t ready for the bigs yet, but with the help of Bainbridge and the determination of Cal Diamond, I persevered and started performing the way I should be.

  Singleton just singled to right, giving me a man on base to bring home. I look to our third base coach, for the sign, wondering if I’m hitting away or bunting. The infield shifts, expecting the bunt, but I’m supposed to stand in and take the pitch so Branch can steal, easy enough. I cringe when I see the meatball heading my way. I want to swing, but doing so could hit Branch right into a double play, or I could pop up and he’d have to go back to first. So I take it. My eyes close when the ump calls out “Strike,” and I feel the ball whizzing by my face as the catcher for Tampa Bay throws down to second in hope of getting Singleton on the steal.

  The base ump calls him safe, and our dugout cheers. We have a few fans in the stands as well who yell out their appreciation of Singleton. My eyes are on our third base coach again for the sign. It’s a bunt. He wants to advance Branch to third. I get it. There are no outs, and we’re down by two runs at the moment. The coaches will do anything to cut the Tampa lead in half.

  I step in and show my bat. The infield adjusts slightly, but not too much, because they’re smart enough to honor Singleton and his speed. As the pitcher warms up, I show my bat again, and everyone yells bunt. The pitch is high and outside so I pull back. The sign I get this time is the same, and I repeat my process of grinding my foot in and making sure I’m square to the plate. I take a deep breath, letting the bat rest on my shoulder until the pitcher shows that he’s ready.

  He starts his wind up. At the last minute I show I’m going to bunt. The ball hits the bat and I push it gently, absorbing most of the force in hope that the ball barely has any velocity to go anywhere. It stalls so much that I’m called safe at first. I watch the instant replay, showing the pitcher and catcher both going for the ball, with no play being made when the catcher finally comes up with it.

  We are in perfect scoring position with a runner on third and now first. There’s an air of cockiness when Kidd walks up to the plate. Once again signs are given from across the field. I’m stealing on the first pitch. Kid
d pauses, adjusts his batting gloves, and steps into the box. He has a routine; it’s ridiculous, but works for him.

  I have a big lead. It’s dangerous, but with Singleton on third, they don’t want to get me in a rundown. They wouldn’t be able to get us both out, and I know that is what the coaches want—they want Tampa to make a mistake and try to pick both of us off.

  The second the ball is released, I’m hauling ass toward second. I slide, even though I have no idea where the ball is, and hear the ump call me safe. Asking for time, I stand and shake the dirt off my pants and readjust my cup. Aside from the jockstrap, the cup is the most uncomfortable thing I’ve ever had to wear. Kidd said he had a girlfriend complain to him once that a bra was more uncomfortable, so he tested it out and said he’d rather wear a bra than a cup any day.

  Once the ball is back in to play, I’m clapping for Kidd. I take a few steps off second, getting comfortable in my lead. Kidd swings and misses, sending Singleton and me back to our bases for a moment. We step off and wait for the next pitch, and Kidd swings and drives the ball down the right field line. I’m in a dead sprint toward third with my eyes on our third base coach the entire time. His arm waves around and as I round third, my focus is on Singleton. He’s going to guide me.

  Tampa Bay’s catcher crouches, and Singleton’s arms lower, telling me to get down. I slide head-first around the catcher’s leg and touch the corner of home plate with my fingertips. The ump yells “out,” and I stand, about ready to argue with him, but I remember what happened the last time I did that.

  “Ump, there was no touch,” I tell him calmly and repeat myself when Wilson comes out to ward off any issues between the umpire and me.

  “Smith, there wasn’t a touch,” Wilson says. He motions for me to go back to the dugout, and I do, but I stay at the top of the stairs. When the opposing team scores or a play is in question that could affect the home team, the instant replay suddenly doesn’t work. That is the case right now. The cameramen are showing the freaking mascot dancing around like a fool instead of showing the fans that I’m safe.

  The ump confers with the umpire in the Replay Command Center, which is located in New York City, who apparently overturns the initial call because the home plate ump is giving the sign that I’m safe. I watch the scoreboard change, tying up the game, before I step into the dugout where the guys commend me on excellent game play.

  “Nice running.” I give Singleton props with a fist bump.

  “That bunt was deadly.”

  “Fucking lucky,” I tell him as I down a cup of water and head to the railing to cheer on Bryce Mackenzie. I’ve never been a strong bunter so the fact that it laid down perfectly is a surprise to me. I’m usually a guaranteed out in that sort of situation.

  Mackenzie goes down swinging, as does Bennett. Cashman grounds out to short, ending our half of the inning.

  “Keep it tight, guys,” Wilson says as we head to our respective positions. Meyers and I walk out together, bullshitting along the way. He’s ready for our road trip to be over, and his big plan for tomorrow is to sleep. I don’t know what my plan is going to be, but it will definitely be something to do with Ainsley. I think about telling the guys that she’s pregnant, but I asked Wilson not to say anything, so I don’t feel right letting the cat out of the bag, so to speak. Once Ainsley and I figure shit out, I’ll let people know, but until then, my lips are sealed. Besides, I don’t feel like it’s my news to share, but hers. Once it’s out there, the damn BoRe Blogger will be all up in her business, and I don’t think she wants that just yet.

  In the end, we end up losing badly and are back on our plane by four in the afternoon. I text Ainsley to let her know that I’ll be home around ten or so, but she doesn’t respond before I’m forced to shut my phone off. We have wifi on the plane, but I choose to sleep on the way back so she and I can have a long talk tomorrow. My sleeping habits are all fucked up because of my schedule, and if I can get a nap in now, maybe waking up with her won’t be such an issue for me.

  I sleep through the flight, and once we’re landed, we get on our charter bus and head back to the stadium. Well, some of us do. Daisy is waiting for Ethan, and their warm embrace makes me long for a relationship like that. Standing there like a peeping tom, watching them together, really makes me question what I’m doing with Ainsley. She’s here and pregnant with my child, yet I’m keeping a safe distance between us. Why? Am I afraid she’s going to run again? Maybe I need to give her a reason to stay.

  The Davenports offer me a ride home, but I decline. I need my car, especially if I want to take Ainsley somewhere tomorrow. The ride back on the team bus is torture but only because I have someplace to be.

  Back at the stadium, everyone mumbles their goodbyes as we go our separate ways. My drive home is short with minimal traffic on the road, and when I’m standing at the door to my apartment, everything shifts. I have a decision to make once I’m inside. It’s going to be life-changing, and we may not want the same things. Ainsley and I need to talk and not let our attraction to each other get in the way. Lord knows, with the thought of her sleeping in my bed for the past few nights, my hand has been getting a workout. And don’t even get me started on her breasts. I’ve noticed that they’ve gotten bigger and I really can’t wait to watch them bounce up and down—that’s if she still wants me.

  When I step inside, all the lights are off except for the small glow coming from the bedroom. I move quietly through my apartment and knock gently on my bedroom door. She doesn’t answer, but that doesn’t stop me from entering.

  Inside my room, candles are lit, and there are rose petals scattered over the floor and on the bed. Ainsley stands in the middle of the room with a long nightgown on. From where I stand, I can see her belly protruding, giving her shape. I set my bag down and step into the room.

  “Welcome home,” she says, staying in her spot. There’s something different in her voice, a tone I can’t place. Is she nervous that I won’t like this or that I don’t want her?

  “I think this has to be one of the best homecomings I’ve ever had.”

  “Have you had many?”

  I shake my head slowly as I stalk toward her. Her breathing catches when my hand cups her cheek. “None since I’ve met you.”

  A small smile plays on her lips, and I pray that was enough reassurance for her to know that I haven’t been with anyone else.

  “What do you want, Ainsley?”

  “You,” she replies softly.

  “But for how long? Do you plan to go back to Florida? Or stay here?”

  She closes her eyes and rests her head against my hand. “I want a family,” she says as she meets my gaze.

  “Do you see me in your family?”

  When she nods, I lose all sense of reality and carry her to my bed. I lay her down gently with her hair fanning over the rose petals on the comforter. “You’re so beautiful,” I tell her as I kiss her exposed skin.

  “Make love to me, Cooper.”

  “With pleasure.”

  * * *

  Ainsley sleeps soundly next to me while my thoughts run rampant. All night I’ve thought about what I have to do, and I realize I don’t want to wait. I slide out of bed carefully and get dressed in my closet. The few clothes she brought hang opposite of mine, bringing a smile to my face. I like that she hung her stuff up and made herself at home, even though this one will be temporary. We can’t raise a family in an apartment and will need something bigger.

  I check on her before I sneak out, making sure she’s still sleeping. The temptation to crawl back into bed with her is great, but so is my quest. I shouldn’t be gone long, but in the event that she wakes up, I leave her a note telling her I’ll be right back.

  It’s after two in the morning, and the streets are empty except for those going home from the bar scene. That’s never been me; even in college, I kept to the curfew and rarely went out during the off-season. Baseball was and still is too important to me.

  I pound on my
manager’s door, knowing that I’ll end up paying the price on Friday when I go back to work, but right now, I don’t care. There’s something I need to do, and it can’t wait.

  “What the fuck do you want, Bailey? It’s two a.m.”

  “Yes, sir, but this can’t wait.”

  He yawns and motions for me to come in. “Don’t sit. You’re not staying long.”

  I stand there under the scrutiny of my boss. “I’m here to ask your permission to marry Ainsley.”

  “What?” he scoffs.

  “I’d like to marry Ainsley but would also like your permission.”

  He shakes his head and brushes me off. “Whatever, Bailey. Ask her. I’m going back to bed. Lock the door on your way out.”

  Wes Wilson, the man who busted my chops for getting Ainsley pregnant to begin with, walks out of the room and into his bedroom. When the door slams, I jump and quickly realize that this was easier than I thought.

  The drive back to my apartment is quick, and before I know it, I’m shedding my clothes and climbing back into bed with Ainsley. She molds easily into my side with her ass pressing against my dick.

  “Hmm, you’re cold.”

  “Sorry, I had to run a quick errand.” If that surprises her, she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she reaches between us and grabs hold of me and begins to stroke.

  “Ainsley,” I warn, unsure if she’s awake or not.

  “Coop, I’m so horny,” she mumbles in her sleep.

  I rise up on my elbow and ask her to look at me. There’s no way I’m taking advantage of a sleeping Ainsley. For all I know she could be dreaming.

  “Look at me.” Her eyes flutter open, and she smiles. “You’re horny?” I ask, trying not to laugh.

  “All the time.”

  “I can help solve that,” I tell her, thrusting my hips into her hands.