“You’re amazing,” I tell her with a small head shake. “I don’t know how I ever got so lucky with you, but someone is going to be very, very lucky to have you, and I’m sorry. If I had thought that Hadley would come back the way she did, I would’ve never started anything with you. The last thing I want to do is hurt you.”
Jessica leans forward reaching for my hand. I give it to her willingly. “I’m not hurt, Ryan. A little sad, yes, but I consider you my friend, and we had a great time together.”
I smile. “We did, didn’t we?”
“Boss, I need help.” Jessica and I break apart when my star third basemen, Ethan Davenport, walks in. Ethan was a top a recruit out of college. Every major team wanted him whether they had a third baseman or not. The Renegades were lucky. We had the room to pay him, meet his contract needs and desperately needed him on the field. The problem with Ethan is, he’s twenty-one, six-foot-two with light blue eyes and dark hair, a little bit crazy and has a gaggle of women hounding him on a nightly basis. Of course, he told social media where his apartment is, so that’s not helping. He’s Boston’s most eligible bachelor and loves playing that role. Right now he’s pulling on his hair, which is a telltale sign that he’s agitated. I learned that this last year when I was recruiting him.
“I’ll see you guys later. Ryan, don’t forget we have a three o’clock.”
“I’ll be there.” I watch her walk-out and wait for the pain of not having her in my life to set in. When it doesn’t, it only tells me what I already know. “Have a seat, Ethan.”
Ethan sits in the chair that Jessica just left. His leg starts bouncing immediately and his eyes dart all over the room. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was on drugs, but he’s not. He’s the poster boy for clean health and even though he frequents the bars, he’s never caught drinking. I don’t know what he does behind closed doors, but at least in public he’s not out embarrassing himself.
Sometimes it’s hard for me to be the boss around here. Being the youngest GM in history, it puts me close to most of my players’ ages. Some of them, not all, think that we’re buddies. They forget that I call the shots and can trade them or not renew their contracts. It’s a hard pill to swallow for these guys. At times, I’d love to be their buddy, but at the end of the day, I’m their boss and lines can’t be crossed.
“What’s going on?” I ask, ready to tackle whatever problem he has.
“Okay, so you know that Renegades blogger?”
I nod.
“Well he or she, I don’t know who it is, but they keep writing about me.”
I lean forward and clasp my hands together. “They’re allowed. You’re a public figure, playing a public game and its freedom of speech. I’ve seen the blog; there’s nothing derogatory being posted.”
“Boss, they post about when I pick my nose. Not about my stats or anything like that.”
I stifle a laugh. “So, stop picking your nose, Ethan.”
He rolls his eyes and fidgets with the arm rests. “I can’t… I mean I can, but my hands have to be doing something while I’m waiting for the ball.”
When we acquired Ethan, I had him tested for a tic disorder, nerve damage, anything the doctors could think of and everything came back normal. This kid can’t sit still, no matter how hard he tries.
“Listen, you’ve done a great job keeping your head in the game. So what if this person blogs about your on-field antics. My suggestion is to stop reading the blog and stop looking up your name online because if it’s not this blog, it’s going to be the next one that has something to say. Read ESPN. They’re accurate and have all your stats updated.”
“Am I interrupting?”
My head springs at the sound of Hadley’s voice. Against my will, a smile spreads across my face when we lock eyes. Ethan turns in his seat and mutters, “whoa.” I want to throw my pen at him, but resist.
“Come on in, we’re just about finished.”
Ethan turns back around and leans forward. “Boss, that’s Hadley Carter!” he all but screams when he says her name.
“I know who she is, Ethan.”
“But how…?” he begs for an answer.
Hadley sits down next to him and his leg stops bouncing. He stares at her, much like the women stare at him. I’m staring too though because she’s rocking a pair of cut-off shorts and a tank-top. Her long blond hair is pulled up into a high ponytail and her sunglasses are sitting on top of her head. Her skin is sun-kissed and looking so much better than it was the other day when we were together. If I didn’t already have carnal knowledge of her body, I’d be on my hands and knees begging for her to give me an ounce of attention. I pull myself a little closer to my desk to hide the issue developing in my slacks. One thing’s for sure, Hadley knows how to push my buttons… all of my buttons.
Clearing my throat, more so to break my reverie so I can concentrate, I look at Ethan, who is still eyeing Hadley with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Hadley and I…” I stop because I’m not sure how to explain us without it coming out wrong.
“We were engaged once,” she blurts out.
Ethan’s head slowly turns and looks at me. I’m a statue, afraid of showing any emotion or confirmation. He shakes his head. “Man, boss, you’re one lucky bastard.” He gets up and leaves, shutting my door behind him.
“Well, that was interesting.”
Hadley starts laughing, which warms my cold interior. I’ve missed her and I don’t know why I keep fighting it. Life is supposed to be about following your dreams, taking risks and getting lost in love. I have my dream job. Hadley is definitely a risk. Getting lost in love with her is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.
“Come here,” I say as I beckon her with my finger. She stands and walks over to me. I push my chair back and place my hands on her hips. I guide her to stand in between my legs and let my hands caress the back of her thighs. “You’re dangerous for me, Hadley, but I can’t stay away. I tried. I thought if I ignored you, you’d go away, and I could just push away these feelings, act like they don’t exist, but I can’t. With that said, it scares me that after a few months, I was able to move on, or try to move on. I don’t want to feel like that.”
“I don’t either.” Her fingers push through my hair, a feeling that I’ve missed.
“Will you move to Boston?”
She nods. “Yes, I will.”
“Will you be my girlfriend? Can we date, be together and see where things lead us? I don’t want to rush into anything.”
“I’d really like that, Ryan.”
I stand quickly and pull her to my lips. The sensation coursing through me is new, almost as if we’ve never kissed before. I have an uncontrolled storm rolling through my body right now, and she’s the umbrella that’s going to keep me dry.
When I pull away, I rest my forehead against hers. She’s breathing heavily, while I’m barely hanging on.
“Sorry, I just had to know,” I whisper against her lips, unable to keep my lips off of her.
“Know what?”
“If you’re still the one for me.” My words linger in air as my smile grows wide, assuring her that yes, she is the one. The only one for me.
If her smile is any indication by how happy she is, I’d say she’s on top of the moon… or charts in her case.
It’s been six months since I moved to Boston, and I have no regrets. The spring weather quickly turned humid and at times unbearable, but I managed to get through it with my trusty air conditioner. With fall approaching, I’m seeing more and more tourists flocking to all the right locations.
A favorite of mine is sitting on the park bench at Faneuil Hall and watching the street performers. A few times, I’ve brought my guitar and sang, but it’s not too often that I can do that unless I set up some type of security.
The one thing I haven’t grown accustomed to is a true Bostonian accent. The words they say often result in me staring bug-eyed at them and shaking my head. There’s a group of them that sit
behind Ryan and me at each ballgame. They get rowdy and sometimes throw their beers at unsuspecting Yankee fans. It’s a love/hate relationship.
I’ve become a fan of the Renegades and while I’m still learning the game, it’s enjoyable to watch. Most importantly, it’s giving Ryan and me some much needed time to be together. My tour will start in the spring once Ryan’s back to work. We agreed that I’d tour while he’s working, only one month overseas and nothing after the month of October. I owe it to my fans, the ones I cancelled on, to finish out the tour. The press hounded me for about two weeks into my stay in Boston and I finally came clean, appearing for the first time in years without my engagement ring.
Ryan and I opted to donate it to charity. He said if we’re to travel the path of an engagement again, he’ll get me something new, something that’s not tainted with bitterness and anger. We still live in separate apartments, and I think that’s something we needed. When we got back together six years ago, we started living together right away. No dating, no courting, just together and sharing everything. This time around, things are different, better. We talk more. We make plans to see each other. We surprise each other at work. We’re more spontaneous and not acting like we’ve been married for years.
I’m back to writing music and recording almost daily, but only while Ryan’s at work. I’m renting a small studio near the stadium, which allows us to go to lunch or leave from work and walk to dinner.
When I told Carrie that I was moving to Boston, she wasn’t too happy, but she’s dealing with the three hour drive that she makes twice a week. Alex and Cole, and their daughter Hayden moved to Connecticut, splitting the difference between Boston and NYC. Cole is back in the studio and has a number 1 hit on the radio. Dylan, she’s another story, and I don’t see her much. I know it hurts Ryan and that her and I don’t get along, but there isn’t anything I can do aside from leaving him and I won’t do that. Dylan comes around when I’m not there, and it’s something I’ve had to accept. I placate her with niceties and give her daughter presents, but that’s the extent of our relationship. I have Alex, he has Dylan. We’ve learned to accept things the way they are.
Today, I’m watching a group of young boys street dance. It’s not the first time I’ve seen this particular group and have talked to Carrie about using them in a music video. The talent they have is unparalleled. They’re not classically trained, and I think that’s where they have an advantage. They choreograph their own steps and allow their bodies to move to the music. They’re definitely my favorite type of street performer.
Just beyond their circle, there’s a man playing drums on anything and everything – except a set of drums. He’s the entertainment. He’s the one providing the beat right now. He’s also my inspiration for new music. Because of him I want to break out into something else, a sound more edgy and less auto-tuned. I want to go back to the basics of music and let people fall in love with the rhythm and lyrics and not so much the show I put on. There’s something about sitting on stage and performing without the loud amplifiers and flashy light shows. I want people to feel the intimacy that music can provide.
I search through my purse for my ringing phone. When I see who’s calling, I know my face is beaming. “Hello,” I answer with pure excitement.
Ryan laughs on the other end. “I was going to ask what you’re doing, but I can hear.”
“I’m fascinated, what can I say.”
“Hmm, you can say you’ll meet me at the stadium in an hour or so.”
I look at my watch and see that it’s now rush hour. The trains will be jam packed. “An hour is doable, I think. It just depends on the trains.”
“It’s fine, I can wait. Just get here, okay?”
“Okay, on my way. I love you.” I smile brightly as the last three words roll off my tongue. Telling him that I love him has to be my most satisfying achievement each and every day.
“I love you too, Hadley,” he replies before hanging up. As much as I hate leaving before their show is done, I’m more eager to see Ryan. I pull a few twenties out of my wallet and set them in their bucket. I’ve spoken to a few of these guys and know that they work minimum wage jobs and do this to put a little more food on the table. A couple of the guys bring their little kids down to watch so that they’re working but still with family. Seeing this makes me very thankful for what my parents did for me.
I hustle to the train, longing to see Ryan. There isn’t a game tonight and it does strike me as odd that we didn’t make plans. Not that we need to see each other every night, but I’m not complaining if we do. The break-up, while it hurt, did us well. We were able to grow, function normally without being dependent upon each other and fall in love all over again. I think that has been our biggest blessing, love. I now find myself craving him. The need to be near him is so great that each time I see him, I’m warm and tingly and feel like I’m falling all over again. It’s a feeling I never want to lose.
By time I’m at the stop for the ballpark, I’m only ten minutes late. I rush down the hall and up the escalator to his office. I bypass his receptionist, Wendy, who I found out is Jessica’s best friend. Since Ryan and I started dating, she’s been cordial, but can’t get over the fact that Ryan and Jessica broke up because of me. I know Jessica has told her that’s not the case and if she and I can be friends, surely her best friend can get over it. No such luck.
When I get to Ryan’s office, his lights are off. Reluctantly, I have to ask Wendy where he is, and this never goes well. I stop in front of her desk and paste a nice fake smile on my face. “Hi, Wendy, can you tell me where Ryan is?”
She rolls her eyes and doesn’t hide her distaste for me. “Mr. Stone asked that you meet him on the field. If you follow – “
“I know the way, thank you,” I cut her off before she can finish. I’m growing impatient and don’t understand why he wouldn’t be in his office.
As soon as I’m through the tunnel that separates the field from the club house, I spot Ryan standing on the pitcher’s mound. I climb the steps slowly and step out onto the warning track.
“Hey, Hadley.”
“Hey, Ryan.”
“Why don’t you come here for a minute?”
I nod and step onto the grass, hopping over the white chalked lines. Usually the field is covered so the rain doesn’t damage the grass, but today, it’s open like a playground. I want to take off my shoes and run, but I refrain.
Reaching Ryan, he pulls me into his arms and kisses me deeply. “Turn around,” he says, but doesn’t release me. He faces us in the direction of the jumbotron, the same one where we’re caught on the “kiss cam”.
“I love you, Hadley,” he whispers in my ear as music starts playing. Tears well in my eyes as a slideshow starts. There are images of us when we were babies and growing up and finally of us together, even when he was seventeen. I wrap my arms around him, leaning into his shoulder.
“I love this.”
“Me too, but it’s not over.”
The music changes into Canon in D as the words “Will You Marry Me?” appear on the screen. I gasp and cover my mouth as the tears flow. I turn in his arms and nod feverishly, words escaping me in this very important moment.
Ryan sighs. “Is that a yes?”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!”
“Phew, I was getting a little worried.” Only he would make light of an important moment like this. “So, I was thinking we’d get married tonight.”
“What?” I deadpan.
He moves a few steps to the right to show me what’s going on behind him. My parents, his mom, Alex, Cole and Hayden, Dylan and her daughter, Carrie, and a few of our friends are all standing at home plate.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Ryan shrugs. “Well, from the looks of it, we’re getting married tonight.”
“Right here?”
“Is there a better place?”
I shake my head. “No there isn’t, but how? We don’t have a marriage license.”<
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Ryan runs his hand through his hair. “Minor technicality that Carrie was able to fix for us. I assure you, if we get married right now, it’ll be legal.”
“So, what are we waiting for?” As soon as I say those words, music queues up again and Ryan takes my hand in his arm and walks us to home plate. Our friends and family move aside and a minister appears ready to make us official.
In only a few short minutes, with traditional vows exchanged, Ryan and I are husband and wife, and while this may be the most nontraditional wedding in the history of nontraditional weddings, the fact that it’s mine makes it the most perfect.
Ask me nine years ago, when I was sitting on my bed listening to my best friend, Dylan, go on and on about the concert tickets she won, if I thought I’d meet my wife that night, the answer would be a resounding no. I owe so much to Dylan – even if she refuses to acknowledge her part in my life when it comes to Hadley – that I’ll never be able to repay her. Yes, some of the best and also most troubling times in my life are because of Hadley, but I wouldn’t trade them for anything. Nothing can compare to what I’m feeling now that I’ve heard the minister tell me that I may now kiss my bride.
The moment our lips connect, I know I made the right decision by surprising her with this wedding. Getting everyone here was a challenge, especially Dylan, who was adamant that I’m making a mistake. Thing is, it’s my mistake to make. I didn’t tell her that her daughter, Emma, was a mistake or that she needed to marry that sorry excuse for a father. I supported her and expect the same in return. Cole and Alex were the easy part. Alex was beyond excited and swore she wouldn’t say anything. Cole told me he was happy that everything was working out the way it should be. The fact that he thought Hadley and I belonged together makes me appreciate him even more as a friend.
Rebuilding our lives together these past months has been perfect and exciting. Hadley will be finishing out the tour she cancelled when she showed up in my office and as much as I don’t want her to leave, it’s better that she’s doing it when I’m back to work. We’re taking a month off after the season ends and going far away to some tropical island where cell phones don’t work. We haven’t decided yet where that is, and I’ve threatened that we’ll end up at the airport and looking at the reader board, still trying to decide. I don’t care where, as long as she’s with me.
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