Even if the Bisons went all the way this year, the season would wrap up in October. Abby assumed Nick would flee Boston immediately after the final catch of the season. Kevin was one of the rare team members who lived in the northeast year round. Most fled to the south in search of warm weather and five-star golf courses.
She wasn’t sure what it said about her, but tonight’s kiss had rocked her to the core. Being in Nick’s arms, even for a brief time, had felt like home. Not like the home she grew up in, more like the home she had wanted to grow up in. If God was a woman, she would have let Abby be the one to cry mistake first.
By now she should have been prepared for the soft-shoe routine. You’re great, Abs. It’s me, honest. I just need a little time. I wasn’t ready to feel so much so fast. My mother would make your life hell. The last one had been thrown at her only once. It had actually been the truest of all the kiss-off lines she had been fed. No amount of love or lust could have saved that relationship. Mrs. Oliveri had buried three husbands. All of whom were presumed to be happier six feet under.
Nick was either a fabulous actor or truly conflicted about wading into the murky waters of a relationship. The safest bet was to assume that the truth rested somewhere in the middle. Either way it made her path clear. Any road that led to Nick Valente was mentally marked with a proceed with caution sign.
Sleep had come more easily than she expected. Maybe she had been right, at least about getting that kiss out of the way. It was one less thing to toss and turn about at night.
Friday morning was like the day before Christmas. After her three classes wrapped up she was done in the classroom for over a month. Although she would still have a mountain of work to tackle, she could look forward to doing a good portion of it on her back porch swing, far away from her fire-breathing peers on campus.
Slipping into her favorite gold sandals, she did a quick sweep of the kitchen table in search of any missing items from her backpack before pulling open her screen door. Oh crap. Abby could count on one finger the number of times she had been late at Norfolk. Rescuing Duke, a morbidly obese basset hound, from a frozen snow bank last December had taken more energy and time than she had imagined. Sliding around rock hard snow in a pair of old tennis sneakers trying to bench press seventy pounds of dead weight had been a true candid camera moment. Having Duke’s owner, eighty-three-year-old Martha Endicott, shout encouragement from her kitchen window had only hindered her progress. The sound of his mistress’ voice resulted in a traumatized Duke springing a leak all over her favorite black wool pants. Later, when she tried to explain the reason for her tardiness to Ben, he actually told her to stop before he suffered the same misfortunate accident as Duke.
Today it wasn’t Duke impeding her departure. The sight of her mother stepping out of her car almost sucked the blood right out of her. Not that her mother reminded her of a vampire, at least not anymore.
“Don’t bother with coffee, honey. I only have a few minutes to spare.”
Abby forced all venom from her voice. “Mom, I’m kind of cutting it close this morning. Is this something that can wait a few hours?”
Cindy’s brows shot up to her hairline. “It wouldn’t kill you to spend five minutes in my company.” Turning away, she marched to a set of nearby Adirondack chairs. “I’ll be brief.”
Her mother was right. It was a sad state of affairs when you made dodging your mother an art form. Perching on the arm of a chair, Abby tried again. “Sorry, Mom. You know I’m sort of OCD when it comes to being on time.” Leaning down she planted a small kiss on her mom’s cheek.
Her gesture clearly shocked Cindy. “Well, uh…of course promptness is important. I tried to catch up with you last night.”
The words held the slightest suspicion. “Is everything okay?”
“Excellent in fact,” Cindy said, folding her hands neatly in her lap. “Sean is going to propose to Caroline tomorrow night.”
Sean was two years younger, leaps smarter and heaps kinder than she could ever imagine being. It was a well-known secret that he was her favorite.
“That’s fabulous, Mom. They seem like a great match.”
Cindy turned, pinning her with an odd expression. “We’re happy and I think Caroline’s family is equally pleased. I didn’t want you to hear about it after the fact, Abby.”
There was hidden subtext that she couldn’t quite pick up on. The pressure of her mother’s watchful eyes had her longing for her car. “Thanks, Mom. We should plan a celebration brunch before the summer ends.”
Cindy’s hand reached out and cupped her chin. “I’m a meddling pain in the butt, honey. That’s not likely to change. It hurts to see you struggle.”
Abby sighed. “I’m happy, Mom.” She held up her hands to ward off a rebuttal. “That’s not to say I don’t want more out of life. I want kids before I’m eligible for social security. If a man comes with it, then all the better.”
“Your father has a nice new associate at the firm. He’s only twenty-six, but he seems mature enough.”
Abby’s chin dipped to her chest. “If I’m ever going to find the right guy, I need to do it in my own way and on my own timeline.”
Instead of resignation Abby was surprised to see a genuine smile frame her mom’s thin cheeks. “That’s been your approach to life since you stopped using a sippy cup. I can’t wait to meet the man that clips your wings.”
“Me too,” Abby quipped. “He can buy me a big house far enough away that family members will need GPS to track me down.”
Cindy’s hand shot out, dramatically threatening to push Abby on her backside. “Please, most people find us to be a charming group. And I plan on working extra hard at winning over all additions to the family. That way your father and I come off as functional and our offspring as drama queens.”
She must have missed the day her mother expanded her emotional range to include a sense of humor. If Cindy wasn’t the wife of an attorney, Abby might have believed she had been smoking some funny smelling grass that morning.
Abby dropped another kiss on her mother’s smooth cheek. “I hate to cut this lovely interlude short, and yes, I’m just saying that to be polite. But my first class starts in exactly twenty-two minutes.”
With a grace that eluded her daughter, Cindy eased out of the slatted chair. “Have you met Caroline’s brother? He’s an insurance broker down in Plymouth. Never married. Turned the big 3-0 last fall. According to his mother…”
The last words were lost as Abby closed the door of her Honda. After a quick wave out the sunroof window, Abby gunned the small engine in reverse. Too much of her mother, even on a good day, produced a dull throbbing behind her frontal lobe.
By three-thirty she was hungry, tired and simpering over a blister on her baby toe. In her early morning rush, it had slipped her mind that her favorite sandals left a lasting impression, unfortunately on her skin. The sight of her flashing red message light blinking in her office was not a mood enhancer.
Abby tossed her sandals under her desk, hoping that they might permanently go missing amongst the milk crates overflowing with books. Sliding open her top drawer she grabbed two pieces of Juicy Fruit gum. She slowly bit into the stick of sugar, trying to ignore the annoying flash beside her. Again, willpower failed her.
The first message proved harmless enough. Ben reminding her of her promise to water his newly seeded lawn during his vacation. Since her singular slip up two years ago, she now lined her dashboard with sticky note reminders.
The next message was from one of her former students asking about the possibility of an internship at the paper. Hitting the save option, she made a mental note to ask Pam Barkley about current openings.
It was the third message that had put a knot in her stomach. Bridget had decided to fly down to New York City tomorrow to catch two weekend games. Gracie was spending the weekend with Kevin’s family down in Rhode Island, creating a rare free weekend for Bridget. The excitement in her cousin’s voice was almost conta
gious. It simply wasn’t enough to camouflage the downside of a weekend getaway. Her new proceed-with-caution mantra cried foul. There was no way her ego would survive a trip like that in tact. Even if she never crossed paths with Nick, he would know that she was there through the team grapevine. On the heels of their kiss, he might have the audacity to think she was dogging his heels.
Abby tried to brainstorm an excuse that would not fall into the category of a lie. By the time she landed Bridget on the phone, she had settled on her story.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to storm the city on your own this time,” Abby said, kicking the door to her office closed. “My body and bank account are just about wiped out, Bridget.”
She sighed. “We can do a low key visit. Skip the shopping and splurge on one nice dinner. My treat.”
Abby shook her head, even though there was no one there to see her. “I already have a mental commitment on Sunday.”
Bridget laughed. “That sounds like a plan that involves Cindy and Bill. Which makes me wonder why you don’t sound more distraught?”
“Well, rumor has it our baby Sean is going to get engaged tomorrow.”
“Holy mother. Cindy must be ready to hop a table at the club and do her happy dance.”
“Let’s refrain from the scary imagery,” Abby said, sticking a fresh piece of gum on her tongue. “The men of Radford Country Club would undoubtedly swoon at the sight of Cindy’s tight butt jiggling five feet off the ground.”
“No offense, but this is not good news for you my friend.”
Abby didn’t have to ask what that meant. She would be the last solo flying member of the McCabe clan. A dubious distinction that would open her up to even more family gossip and speculation.
“This may be a premature observation, but Cindy actually seemed in touch with her human side this morning.” Abby sighed, still trying to absorb that early morning shock. “Maybe she raided my dad’s stash of Eddie Murphy movies again. She actually cracked a joke.”
“Ugh,” Bridget said. “I hate when parents have a mid-life personality change. Of course, Cindy hasn’t become a sex maniac or a Botox beauty. So, this is good, right?”
“Confusing but good. Anyway, I think she will expect me and Tim to be available for a champagne toast on Sunday.”
Bridget released a quiet sigh. “I’m not going to be able to guilt you into coming, am I?”
“Nope,” Abby said. “Think of this as your chance to spread your wings a little. Maybe take a stroll through Tiffany’s without me there to wipe your drool.”
“I’m hanging up now. I’ll call you before the game tomorrow.”
Abby’s anxiety receded. “Have fun. Take a cab whenever Kevin isn’t with you.”
“Yes, Mother,” Bridget crooned. “I’ll pack an extra can of pepper spray, wear a whistle around my neck and advise the concierge of my daily agenda.”
“Sounds like you’ve got it covered,” Abby said, knowing that her cousin was only half kidding. Hanging up the phone, she thought about a quiet weekend at home. She was honest enough to admit it really couldn’t compete with ogling a prime piece of man crouching down behind home plate. Something told her she would be watching this weekend’s games on television.
One sight Nick hadn’t expected to see on this trip was currently perched in the lobby of the Hilton. Kevin’s wife, dressed in a rainbow of pink and lime green, stood leaning over a small map at the reception desk. Without thought, Nick turned, scanning the entire lobby in search of a brunette. When his search came up empty, he decided to bring his question directly to the source.
In less than a dozen steps he reached her side. “Hey, Bridget, I didn’t know you were hitting the road this week?”
She turned, surprise and curiosity etched on her face. “Last minute whim. Winter is my usual choice for a visit here.”
Nick nodded, again scanning the length of the lobby. “So, are you waiting for some friends? I know Kevin has already headed over to the stadium.”
Bridget nodded, raising her eyebrows in the process. “Can I ask you a question, Valente?”
It was a statement that a smart man dreaded. Yet, etiquette forced him to respond as expected. “I’m guessing you’ll find a way even if I refuse.”
“Who are you hoping will magically step out of that elevator?”
That stopped him. He hadn’t expected such a blunt inquiry. Maybe she was more like her cousin than he had initially imagined.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
Bridget never even blinked. “Absolutely. I guess I hadn’t realized the extent of your interest in my cousin.”
Damn, this was not flowing in the direction he had hoped. He turned his head, focusing briefly on a nearby television flashing a news briefing. “You underestimate Abby’s allure.”
“Nope,” she said. “I just assumed you did.”
“It would probably be better if I had. I’m not in a position to do anything more than look.”
Bridget’s smile faded at his admission. “Then look from a distance. Abby tends to sell herself short when it comes to guys. The last thing she needs is someone sending mixed signals her way.”
Nick didn’t like those words, probably because he knew them to be true. Their kiss the other night had confused her, almost as much as it had confused him. His own face must have matched his thoughts.
This time Bridget’s voice held an unmistakably gentle tone. “I like you, Nick, and I’m guessing Abby does too. We both know this is none of my business.”
He shrugged. “We both know you have every right to ask those questions. Truth is, your cousin finds me more annoying than charming. I’m guessing I am not exactly suited to her taste.”
This time Bridget let a soft laugh spill out. “Now you underestimate yourself. The fact that you are nothing like her typical date, should alarm the hell out of both of you.”
Nick turned that over in his mind. “Trust me, it does.”
Bridget folded the map before her into a small square. “I’m not foolish enough to think that you are not going to do exactly what you want to do. Ditto Abby. If you do decide you can’t keep your distance, just remember, Abby never stops long enough to listen to her head. Don’t let her make a mistake that will blow things without giving them a real chance.”
Nick appreciated the advice. Knowing that Bridget wasn’t entirely against his interest in Abby gave him a glimmer of hope. Of course, everything, including this discussion, was premature.
“I trust neither one of us will want to mention this conversation to Abby,” Nick said, keeping in step with Bridget as she moved toward the oversized revolving door.
“Great minds and all that.” She paused at the rotating door. “I’m biased of course, but there is no woman in the world quite like Abs. Remember that, Valente.”
Standing in the lobby, watching Bridget’s back slip into a cab, Nick tried to think long term instead of next week. Maybe next spring some of the chains around his neck would have loosened. Holy hell, for his sake they had better.
The Bisons, as a whole, played very well that afternoon. Taking the first two games in the series guaranteed they would leave New York with an even wider division lead. Behind the plate Nick had called a strong game, helping a second-year pitcher size up each hitter accordingly. At the plate was a different story. For the first time this season he went hitless, striking out twice and grounding out twice. Normally one bad game was easy to put behind him, but icing his thigh that night, gave Nick time to acknowledge a sliver of doubt. His timing had been off today. Way off. Even last year when his home life was blowing up around him, he hadn’t lost his rhythm at work.
The situation with Alyssa had been beyond repair. The turmoil, though intense, had a clear-cut outcome. It was never going to work. Too many mistakes. Too much pain. Nick had focused on getting through each day and it had worked.
Right now his path was littered with question marks. He wasn’t accustomed to ambiguity, especially w
hen it came to something he wanted. It was hard to remember a time when he hadn’t found a way to overcome an unexpected obstacle. Baseball was a boyhood dream. Most kids learned to set it aside and find more attainable goals. Not Nick. He quietly suffered through two years on the bench at Georgia Tech. It wasn’t until an injury sidelined the starting catcher his junior year, that Nick got his first taste of success. It had been so damn sweet that he never returned to the bench that year or the next.
His trajectory to Alyssa had taken a similar path. Someone else had earned the start, but he had been the one to earn a permanent place at her side. Not that it had turned out as favorable in the long run. He had ignored early warning signs and focused only on his end goal. In the end it had hurt them both.
Time of course had changed him. Not all of those changes were good. A lot of illusions had died with his marriage. He wouldn’t allow a physical attraction to lead him by the balls. Unfortunately, he now knew the difference between a surface connection and an I’ve-found-salvation connection. In truth, he didn’t know Abby all that well, just enough to wonder if she was his best hope at the latter.
For the first time in his life he was tempted to listen to his mother’s advice. It was tough to hear the woman who gave birth to you recite the secrets to a solid relationship. Especially since sex didn’t even make the top ten list. His dad, based on the background noise, had made himself scarce during the phone conversation. He was probably just as uncomfortable as his son.
“Work from a foundation of friendship” wasn’t exactly groundbreaking. Looking back on the past fifteen years, he reluctantly realized he had never followed that path. He had his friends and not a one of them wore a thong. That probably didn’t say a great deal about him, but it was the truth. He admired women, lusted after them, and if the interest held, made a move in their direction. Conversation and shared interests never really entered the picture.
Already Abby McCabe fell into a unique category. He actually enjoyed the small talk, whether about sports or family. Spending time with her wasn’t a trial, even if he had been forced to keep his hands in his pockets. The one time he ignored reason, and took a taste of what he had only dreamed of, had ignited a fire in regions other than his brain.
The Catcher and the Lie Page 6