by Kathy Lyons
Meanwhile, Jake was grinning as he played around on his phone and scooted tighter against me on the couch. I looked and saw he’d pulled up the All-Star Game website. “Here’s what I’d like to do…”
I let him talk, not really listening to the words. My mind was still wrapped up my realization. But even as my brain grappled with that, my heart overflowed with happiness. Waves of love seemed to roll through me as I watched him talk. He was all boyish enthusiasm, the excitement vibrating through his words and his body. God, it was amazing to be with someone who was that happy.
“How lucky you are,” I murmured, “that you love your job so much, and get to share it with people who love you for it.” I envied him that. But more important, I was grateful that I was going to get to share it with him. That he chose to share it with me.
Meanwhile, he closed his mouth and his expression shifted. He started out with a flushed kind of pleasure—or so I thought—but pretty quickly, his eyes grew serious. There was still a reddish tinge to his skin, but his eyes became intense, as if he was about to admit something important. “I don’t want to be loved because I can catch and throw a ball well.”
Okay, good point. “Getting tired of the false fan adulation?”
He shrugged, then got that twinkle in his eyes that made him irresistible. “Well, a little adulation isn’t bad.”
I laughed. “You’ve got plenty. But now you’re looking for something more substantial?” This was me pushing for him to realize we had something good, something deep, going on between us. Sure, in the last week, we’d talked about everything, but it had all been fairly superficial. If I was falling in love—the forever kind of love—then I wanted to know more about him. About us and our possible future…if we even had one. Because as much as I lived and breathed for his happiness, this relationship wasn’t real. As far as I knew, whatever this was between us would end as soon as the season was over. “What do you want?” I pressed. “I mean, from the woman in your life?”
He didn’t hesitate. “All I want is you,” he said. But the words were delivered so lightly, I didn’t believe them. Then he kissed me, sweet and slow. I sank into it, too nervous to push for anything deeper. Just because I was falling head over heels in love didn’t mean he was, too. So why ruin what we had right now, just because I wanted more than he could give? We were stuck with each other for the next couple of months, so there was no need to make life miserable.
At least, that’s what I told myself. I wasn’t sure if it was sound logic or cowardice. All I knew is that I’d be crushed if Jake rejected me now.
So I stayed silent. I fell into his kiss and we made love in a slow, sweet way because experiencing an awesome orgasm was way better than facing my fears. And then I had to go to work, so it was too late to ask awkward questions anyway.
Yeah, I was a coward. I’d definitely have to work on that sometime soon. But not now, not when I was so happy. And on the upside, I did get a couple days off. It took some fancy footwork and a promise to babysit my coworker’s twins next month, but I managed it. And the sound of Jake’s excitement when I gave him the news over the phone was enough for me to tuck my fears away. At least, for now.
…
Two hours into the All-Star Game frenzy, I was wondering what the hell I’d been thinking. I was an introvert. I didn’t like crowds. I certainly didn’t like sticky kids, loud drunks, and people with cameras everywhere, trying to get a selfie with Jake. Why hadn’t I thought things through before I agreed to this?
It was all because I’d looked online for pictures of him at other All-Star Games. It had been a big mistake. There had been hundreds of images of Jake at past games…and in many of them, he had some gorgeous model by his side. I found pictures of his father and brother too, but it was the women who stuck out. There had been a half dozen of them over the years, all with excellent cheekbones, tastefully applied makeup, and a casual outfit that managed to make her look both sexy and fun. Me, I was sweating in the heat, nauseous from all the conflicting food smells, and doing my best to shrink into the crowds.
Only Jake wouldn’t let me shrink away. He was always pulling me close, tucking excited little boys between us for pictures or offering me whatever ballpark food I might want. And there was quite a variety, including a crab shack, which, I had to admit, was pretty damn good. But that meant that I had crab sauce staining my Bobcat jersey in the next hundred photos.
“Come on,” Jake urged as he waved away yet another excited father and son. “It’s almost Rob’s turn in the Home Run Derby.”
I hustled behind him, working hard to remember why I was here. Jake was incredibly happy, and that made me happy, too. It wasn’t his fault that my insecurities were getting the best of me. In fact, if he didn’t seem to mind that I wasn’t five eleven and a size 2, then why should I? So what if I wasn’t model-thin? I was the one he’d brought this year, and I intended to enjoy it as much as my shy soul could manage. Which meant that I would just have to stick close to Jake and hope some of his little-boy giddiness rubbed off on me.
“I’m coming!” I called, doing some fancy maneuvering around a couple of very large men with hot dogs before I caught up to Jake. He was trying to clear a path for us. If I stayed right behind him—my hands curled tight into his jeans—I could sail through the crowd in his wake.
I heard the announcer introduce Rob Lee of the Bobcats, well before we made it to our seats. Then he listed a bunch of stats I didn’t understand. Jake had told me that Rob was a contender for Rookie of the Year and well on his way to being one of the league’s best hitters. The fact that there wasn’t any jealousy in his tone made my heart melt. In fact, Jake cheered so loud when Rob stepped up to the plate, I almost had to cover my ears. As Rob grinned and waved to the screaming crowd, I looked around and found Heidi waiting in the stands, her hands clutched to her heart and love clear on her face. Whatever happened here, she was his most adoring fan. And look at me, no jealousy at all. In fact, I totally understood how Heidi was feeling…until I remembered that unlike Heidi and Rob’s, my relationship with Jake was fake.
Talk about throwing a bucket of ice water on my happiness. But I rapidly pushed the thought away. Jake was having a great time, so I would, too. Resolved, I sat down in my amazing seat and prepared to enjoy the show. Jake sat down, too, but he was stopped on either side by people who obviously knew him well.
“No Pops this year?” the first one asked. “Is he feeling okay?”
“He’s great,” Jake answered. “But I wanted to bring Ellie this year. It’s her first time.”
I was busying saying hello when someone behind us tapped Jake on the shoulder. “Where’s Pops?”
Jake turned with a smile that was growing tight. “He couldn’t make it this year. This is Ellie.”
And then again, a third comment, this time from someone seated farther back. “What? No Pops? That’s too bad!”
It didn’t take me long to figure out what had happened. The people in these seats came to the game every year, and tried to get tickets that would give them the same view of the diamond. Obviously, Jake and his dad had been regulars as well. Except this year, Jake had brought me.
I wanted to read all sorts of lovely things into that, but I knew the reality was more likely something darker. Judging by Jake’s expression, he hadn’t wanted his dad to come. The two were still on the outs, and once again, I had been too cowardly to press for details. So I was the last-minute replacement, not the adored new girlfriend, and my smile must have shown the strain.
He leaned in close and whispered into my ear. “Don’t worry. They’re great people. I see them almost every year.”
“Are they all Bobcats fans?”
“We’re all baseball fans. Gary—the guy right behind me—keeps an email list, and he buys our tickets so we’re all together.” He squeezed my hand. “Relax. They’ll love you as much as I do.”
Well, that was cold comfort, given that there was nothing real—at least on his part�
��about our relationship. But I smiled anyway, because that’s what cowards do. We hide our emotions under a smile. As we cheered on Rob, Gary abruptly shoved a beer forward to Jake.
“Here you go, Jake. Do you think the Bobcats can pull it out this year?”
“You betcha. Just look at Rob go!” He took the beer and pushed it to me. “Thanks, Gary.”
Gary grinned, and then both men were on their feet roaring as Rob hit one home run after another. He’d be hard to beat.
I was cheering, too, until the woman on my left tapped my arm. I turned, and she pressed another beer into my hand, pointing at Jake and giving me a thumbs-up. Okay, I guess that meant I was supposed to give it to Jake.
When he turned to me, I handed it over and then gestured to the woman on my left. He grinned his thanks at her, lifting the beer and pressing it to his lips. But he didn’t drink it. I could tell because he didn’t swallow. Then we were both jumping up and down as Rob continued to blow away the competition. The baseballs flew into the stands, one after another. One even came close to us, but Jake didn’t even attempt to catch it. A teenager a few rows back made the catch and gleefully held it up.
“Look! Look! I caught it before you did!” he screamed at Jake.
“You sure did!” he said, smiling.
“Sign it for me?”
“Sure.” Jake pulled out the pen he always carried, just in case, while the boy and his father scrambled through the seats to come closer. And sure enough, while Jake was signing the baseball, the father gestured to a vendor carrying beers.
“Have one on us,” the dad said, but Jake shook his head.
“I should be buying for you. Your son is the one who made the catch.”
“That’s ’cause it was hit right to us. Please,” he said, nodding toward the vendor. Jake sighed, then nodded and was once again handed another cup.
That was three beers in less than five minutes. And from the looks of all the people around us, there would be no stopping the flow of refreshments, mainly of the liquid variety, though not all. One happy family bought nachos just so their son could share them with Jake. A teen girl handed him a pretzel the size of my two hands, which Jake held up while she took selfies of the two of them. He was clearly a fan favorite, although it was also clear that many of the people were longtime friends. I heard several stories of how they’d known he’d be a great ballplayer long before he ever hit the major leagues. They had opinions on everything Jake did, from hitting, to fielding, to how he managed the press. I didn’t understand a lot of it, but Jake was in his element. He laughed with people and posed for pictures, even as he tried to refuse the beers.
He was in the midst of smiling for another picture when I first heard the cheers. Rob had finished hitting and was sitting in first place so far, but there were still a number of other batters up after him. So while Jake was both smiling for the camera and cheering for his teammate, I was listening to the cries behind me.“Pops! Pops!”
I turned, wondering if there could be another Pops that everyone seemed to know. Nope. Jake’s father was here. And he was clearly a favorite among the regulars. While I watched, he finished the beer he was carrying, and before he could toss it aside, another one was shoved into his hand. He laughed and was very grateful, even as people pointed down at Jake, directing Pops to our seats.
I touched Jake’s arm, squeezing to get his attention. He turned to me, a question in his eyes. I motioned up the stands toward Pops and got a firsthand glimpse of his reaction to seeing his father.
Fury in a flash fire of reaction. It was quickly masked, but the anger had been real. Then his expression smoothed out, his lips curved into a slight smile, and his eyes became hooded.
Ouch. So maybe Jake’s relationship with his father was more strained than I’d thought. Pops finally made it down to our seats, accompanied by a chorus of greetings from the people around us.
“Jake said you couldn’t make it this year,” Gary said.
Pops smacked his lips as he finished another beer. “He only got a ticket for the pretty girl,” he said as he winked at me. “But it turns out I can get a ticket all on my own!”
“Of course you can,” Gary said with a grin as he offered up some nachos.
Pops took a bite as he leaned against the hand railing. “So what do you think of my boy’s team this year? Definitely getting a pennant, right?”
Gary and Pops talked baseball while Jake stood there, stiffly watching. The next hitter in the Home Run Derby came out and the crowd responded, but Jake kept his eyes on his father. Eventually there was a pause in the baseball talk, and he broke into the conversation to ask, “How did you get here, Pops? Did Larry come?”
Was there hope in his voice? I couldn’t tell.
“Just me. Drove up this morning.”
“By yourself. Do you have a hotel room?”
“Nah. I’ll figure that out tonight.”
Jake was still smiling, but I could hear his teeth grinding. Especially when Gary bought them all another round. He was going to get me a drink, too, but I waved him off, lifting my cup and taking a sip. Jake tried to refuse, too, but no one listened to him. Apparently, it was a source of pride among fans to be able to buy alcohol for their favorite ballplayer.
And then there was more baseball talk, and cheering, as other players hit ball after ball. Luckily, Rob was still in the lead an hour later, but the derby wasn’t over yet. Meanwhile, Pops had managed to slide into Gary’s seat when the man had left to get more food with his son. Pops was reigning king of the box as he talked baseball like a math genius. And though he got more and more intoxicated, I had to admit, he had a certain charm.
Jake laughed along with everyone else, but I could tell the joy had gone out of him. He still smiled for his fans and even waved to the camera when we showed up on the big board. I had enough time to see our faces—huge on the JumboTron—before he planted a kiss right on my lips.
The embrace was scorching hot—for the cameras. For me, it was too abrupt and way too public. But that was what I’d signed up for, right? Being his special girl this season, complete with thirty-foot images of us in a lip-lock.
Jake tried to soften the kiss. I could feel the pent-up emotions inside him fighting to get loose, but there was too much going on. And so when I pulled back, he let me go, his expression twisted into a rueful apology. Then he leaned forward to give me a hug. But instead of the heartfelt squeeze I expected, Jake whispered into my ear.
“You can leave whenever you want. I’m so sorry. This sucks.”
I pulled back in confusion. “It doesn’t suck…” I protested, but he shook his head and leaned over and spoke into my ear again.
“Maybe not yet, but it will. I’m going to have to find Pops a hotel room.”
Ah, yes. Pops wasn’t going to be sober any time soon. And he sure as hell couldn’t drive in his current state.
I pressed a kiss to his cheek. “No problem. I’ll stay.”
“I wanted to go dancing with you tonight. I wanted to talk about us. About being together for real.” He weighed his words carefully, and gave me a look that had my heart slamming into overdrive. It started me thinking about rings and white dresses, but there wasn’t time to ask anything else because his father decided to interrupt once again, asking some question about a statistic I didn’t understand. Jake’s expression shifted to one of hot fury, blistering the air between us. But he wasn’t angry at me. No, he was royally pissed at his father, who was still holding court one row back.
I wondered, for a split second, if Jake missed the attention. After all, Pops was a charismatic guy who knew how to entertain a crowd. All he asked in return was a steady flow of beer, and lucky for him, everyone here was all too happy to oblige. From the minute the older man had appeared, the flow of attention had shifted from Jake to his dad.
But one look at Jake’s face told me that he didn’t care about the attention. Though he’d been happy to smile for photos, the minute his fans had walked
away, he’d turned back to me. I’d even seen a few flashes of annoyance cross his face when we’d been interrupted for seemingly the millionth time.
So it wasn’t the lack of attention that bothered him. It was more about having to take care of Pops. But I didn’t see that for sure until much later. It started when Rob won the Home Run Derby. That was exciting as hell, and I was cheering as loud as everyone else. But when Jake would have liked to go down and celebrate with his teammates—there were as many as a dozen Bobcats collecting down near the field—he didn’t go. He couldn’t. He didn’t want to leave his father alone.
“He will wander off or decide to drive home. I can’t risk it,” he whispered to me. I offered to stay with Pops, but he refused to lay his burden on me.
Those were his exact words, and I began to see the problem in very clear terms.
After the derby was over, people started leaving the ballpark. It was the end of the day’s events, but many were going to check out the bands that had started playing, taking advantage of the previously captive audience. Pops wanted to go, too, but he could barely stand. Truthfully, given how much he’d had to drink, I was surprised he was even conscious. Jake helped his father up, then handed me the car keys.
“Go back to the hotel. I’ll drive his car.”
“No, no!” Pops exclaimed. “You two go dance. Why, me and your mother…” A really funny story followed about how Larry had been conceived after an All-Star Game dance, but neither of us was really listening. There was no way the man could take care of himself.
“I’ll stay with you until you get to his truck.” Then I flashed him my phone. “I’ve made a reservation at our hotel for him.” Fortunately, they’d had a last-minute cancellation, so were able to get him in. Thank you, hotel gods.