“Okay, I’ll ask,” Britt said. “Exactly why did you feel the need to relieve yourself in Mom’s closet?”
I laughed, while Cin blushed and hid behind her wineglass. Since it didn’t look like she’d be talking anytime soon, I took up the story. “Well, Cin and I had been having a moment in her room when her mother knocked on her door. I surmised that Mrs. Cavanaugh would be somewhat distraught at finding me in her daughter’s room after ten, so I hopped into the closet.”
“I assume this was the first time you snuck into Cindy’s room,” Mr. Cavanaugh said.
“No, the first time he did it we were eleven,” Cin replied. “It was my birthday, and Sean had brought me flowers.” Cin caught Patrick scowling at her, and looked down at her plate. “I think they were zinnias,” she mumbled.
“So that’s what used to happen to your mother’s flowers,” my father said, nodding. “We always thought it was rabbits.”
“Sorry, Dad, that mess was all me,” I said. “Anyway, I figured Cin’s mom was just going to say good night, but they got to talking about flowers.” I looked toward Patrick and Emily, and explained, “Mrs. Cavanaugh loves her garden, and she had just placed a big order from the local nursery. She always wanted to own a greenhouse.”
“I was aware of that,” Patrick deadpanned.
I smiled at the jerk, just to watch his frown deepen. “Anyway, the two of them went on for over an hour about flowering shrubs and perennials and stuff, and I had to go. I mean, I really had to go.”
“You couldn’t have just asked to use the bathroom?” Britt said, smirking at me.
“If I’d walked out of the closet naked, your grandmother would have screamed, thus possibly making me let loose all over the floor,” I said. “I sure didn’t want to ruin the carpet.”
“Dad,” Britt shrieked. “You were naked?”
“Yes, I was,” I replied, ignoring the daggers being glared at me from across the table. “Why do you think I had to hide?”
Cin frowned, but I knew it was only to hide a smile. “So, your father peed in my laundry basket. He refused to admit what he’d done—”
“As if you were in the habit of having random people urinate in your closet,” Britt muttered.
“Anyway,” Cin continued, giving Britt “the look” so she’d quiet down, “about a week later we were studying in the library—studying algebra, of all things—and I was bored. I told Sean I wanted to play Truth or Dare. He picked truth, and I asked him what had really happened to my laundry. When it was my turn, I picked dare.” Cin blushed something fierce, and said, “And we made a baby and named her Britannica.”
Everyone stared at us, then Sam’s best man, Michael, burst out laughing. “Britt, sugar, you’ve been a handful ever since you were a twinkle in your daddy’s eye, haven’t you?”
Sam smiled, and kissed Britt’s hair. “She’s my handful, that’s for sure.” He glanced around the table, his gaze lingering on his obviously shocked parents, then on Cin and myself. “As much as my opinion may not be the popular one at the table, I sure am glad you peed in that closet, sir.”
I snorted. “Yeah, it all worked out, didn’t it?”
Cin smiled, first at Sam and Britt, and then at me. “I guess it did.”
Chapter Five
Cindy
Twenty-Two Years Ago
“I never thought I could be this tired.”
I raised my head, and tried to glare at Sean. Lucky for him I just didn’t have the energy. “Tired? You don’t know what tired is. You slept for like two hours earlier.”
“I did?” he mumbled. “God, I don’t even remember sleeping. Are you sure I wasn’t dead? I feel like a zombie.”
“At least you can sleep.” I shifted my tank top, and put a new washcloth between the fabric and my skin. I had wanted to exclusively breastfeed Britt, since all the books said it was the best way to start her life. Breast is best, you know? Not one of those manuals had said that my breasts would ache like they’d been pumped full of concrete, or that milk would leak from me twenty-four hours a day. They also hadn’t mentioned that breastfed infants needed to feed hourly, either.
I could deal with the achy, leaky breasts, but I needed rest. If I didn’t sleep soon, I’d start hallucinating. Again.
“What about yesterday?” Sean asked. “When she squeaked while you were sleeping I just set her on you. She ate while you slept.”
“We need to do that more often.” Britt had been born just after school let out in June, and Sean had basically moved into my parents’ house to help me take care of her. I’d always known that Sean was mature beyond his years, but the way he stepped up to help care for Britt was amazing. I don’t know what I would have done without him.
If Sean hadn’t been around so much I’d be calling my daughter by her full name, that’s for sure. I’d been reluctant to shorten Britt’s name; after all, we had named her Britannica for a reason. But Sean had said that Britannica was an awfully big name for such a little girl, and our baby had been Britt ever since.
I will never forget the sight of Sean, standing there in the hospital room with the newly born Britt in his arms, the sunlight streaming in behind him while he cooed over our baby. That was the moment I realized what loving someone more than life itself meant.
“I’m going to take a shower while she’s out,” I announced as I got up and headed toward the closet for clean clothes. I saw the answering machine light on, so I hit play when I walked by.
“Yo, douchebag,” came Kevin, Sean’s brother’s, voice. “Coach said you weren’t at practice. Get it together, loser.”
The message ended, and I turned toward Sean. “Baseball practice started again?”
“Uh, yeah.” He straightened Britt’s bib. “I don’t know if I’m going to do it this year. Be on the team and all.”
“What? But you’re their best pitcher!”
“So what? It’s not like I want to spend my life playing baseball. I don’t want to be on the Red Sox or anything. Besides, I need to be here, taking care of Britt.”
“Uh, remember me? Britt’s mother? I can handle her while you’re at practice.” I sat next to him.
He glanced sideways at me. “You’d be okay with that?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? I mean, this eating every hour thing won’t last forever.” At least I hoped it wouldn’t. “She’ll eat solid food eventually.”
“Maybe we can get her a pork chop to suck on, ease her into this whole solid food business,” Sean suggested.
We laughed, and I laid my head on his shoulder. “And Britt’s always going to be part of our lives, not something we have to keep separate. The two of us can even go to your games, cheer you on.”
Sean kissed my hair. “You mean that?”
“Of course I do.”
“Love you, baby.”
I grabbed his hand and squeezed. “I love you too. Now I’m going to shower before the stench of dried milk and baby puke knocks us out.”
Sean laughed through his nose. “You do that, Mama.”
Chapter Six
Cindy
Present Day
“I do not want you speaking with him tomorrow,” Patrick said as he slammed our hotel room’s door shut.
“I really don’t see how that’s possible,” I said, not bothering to ask which male Patrick was referring to. His hatred of Sean was somewhat legendary. “Our daughter is getting married. I imagine that some conversation between Sean and I will be required.”
“He just had to agree to tell everyone that awful story,” Patrick continued. “Do you think I want to be known as the man married to a woman who had sex in a library?”
“Do you think I want to be known as the girl that did?” I shot back. “But that’s how we got Britt, and I don’t regret any of it.”
“That man is too familiar with you,” Patrick continued. “He acts as if he has some sort of claim on you.”
“Of course he’s familiar with me,” I said, ignoring the
second part of his statement. “We’ve known each other for as long as we can remember.”
“Yes, and he brought you flowers when you were eleven.” Patrick unfastened his cuff links and set them on the dresser. “I can give you an entire conservatory.”
“Yes, and you have.” A few Valentine’s Days ago Patrick had made a sizable contribution to the New York Botanical Garden in my name. It was a nice gesture, and ensured that I could visit the orchids whenever I desired. However, it was a gesture poised to show off Patrick’s affluence, not any sort of affection he had for me, his wife.
I would have much preferred a handful of wilted zinnias, clumps of dirt still clinging to their roots, to anything Patrick had ever given me.
I unzipped my dress, took it off, and tossed it across the foot of the bed. “I’m going to take a bath,” I announced, grabbing my robe. Patrick’s hands slipped around my hips a moment later.
“May I join you?” Patrick murmured as he kissed the back of my neck. “I’ll even go to the bathroom in the closet, if you like.”
“I don’t think housekeeping would appreciate that.” I untangled myself from Patrick’s arms, and headed toward the bathroom. “Let me light some candles. Join me in a minute?”
“Of course,” Patrick said, but he was already drifting toward his laptop. It was a ruse we’d used on each other a thousand times; he feigned interest, and I pretended to set up our tryst. Mind you, after ten years of marriage that tryst still hadn’t occurred. I sighed, and shut the bathroom door, resigned to just another night filled with my husband not making love to me.
I wondered what Sean and Emily were doing.
Chapter Seven
Sean
Twenty-Two Years Ago
“Good practice, team,” Coach Walker yelled. “Let’s call it for tonight.”
I took off my glove and wiped the sweat out of my eyes, then I looked toward the bleachers at my two biggest fans: Cin and Britt. Britt hadn’t even been around a year ago, yet she and Cin had come to every practice I’d participated in, and our first few games of the season. I’d always been a good pitcher, but something about having my baby girl out there watching me was giving me a supersonic fastball.
I waved at them, and Cin waved back at me. That my girlfriend was awesome was never in question, but it wasn’t until she and our baby had started coming to my practices that I fully understood how great she was. She never rushed me to get home quick, and once warm-ups started, never called me over to ask about, well, anything. She sat there and smiled and cheered us on, and that was all. No, that wasn’t all; it was everything.
“Rourke,” Coach called as I walked off the field. For some reason, he never said the “O” in my name. He’d done the same to my brothers too. “C’mere a minute.”
“What’s up?” I asked when I reached him. “Is this about my knuckleball?”
Coach clapped my shoulder. “Knuckleball’s fine, slider’s fine, fastball is stupendous.” He paused, examining my face. “A scout saw you at practice the other day. He’ll be at the game on Friday.”
“Huh.” I rubbed the back of my neck, stalling while I turned that over in my mind. “He’ll be here for me?”
“For you.” Coach stepped closer, and said, “Now listen, I know you like having your girlfriend here. Hell, all the guys like it. But if you want this guy to bite, have her and the kid stay home Friday.”
“What do you mean, all the guys like it?” I demanded. “Are they after Cin? Is that why you want her to stay home?”
“No, brain trust, I want her to stay home so you have a shot with the scout.” My face must have looked as confused as I felt, since Coach continued, “No scout for the major or any other league is gonna be interested in a sixteen-year-old kid with a kid. Got it?”
“Wait. You want me to pretend my daughter doesn’t exist so I have a shot with some scout I didn’t even know about until a minute ago?” I asked. “What if I get signed, then do I have to have a secret family or something?”
“No, no,” Coach replied, holding up his hands. “I don’t want you to lie. I just want to stack the deck in your favor, you know?”
“I know.” I threw my glove down in the dirt. “And you can get another pitcher.”
I stalked off, then I turned back and grabbed my glove; it was a nice one, and had been my sixteenth birthday present. Coach said something, but I ignored him and approached the bleachers.
“Ready?” I asked Cin.
“Yeah.” She slung the diaper bag over her shoulder, then she carefully picked her way down the steps; the bleachers were old, and some of those steps gave just a little too much. “What’s wrong?”
“Later.”
We were silent as we walked to my truck, as we strapped Britt into her car seat, and drove home. Since Cin’s parents were out, I didn’t have to endure any small talk the moment we entered the kitchen. I went upstairs, ripped off my gear and got into the shower. When I emerged I found Cin on the bed, her back propped up against some pillows while she fed Britt.
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong now?” she asked.
I sat heavily on the bed. “It’s not you.”
“Of course not. I’m fabulous.”
I looked at Cin and smiled. “Yeah, you are.” Cin returned my smile, and waited for me to answer her. “All right, so there’s some baseball scout coming to watch me pitch Friday.”
Cin’s eyes widened. “A major league scout?”
“You know, Coach didn’t say.” I made a mental note to find out exactly who this scout was scouting for. “Anyway, he said that my chances at getting picked up would be better if you and Britt weren’t there. Make it seem like I have nothing to hold me here, so I could just get up and play for whatever team wants me.”
“Sean.” Cin leaned forward, and put her hand on my wrist. “This could be a really good opportunity for you. Maybe you can get a scholarship, get college paid for.”
I shook my head. “Wouldn’t be worth it. I’d have to tour with the team, be gone for six months out of the year. I can’t leave you and Britt for that long.” I looked at our daughter; she’d fallen asleep while she was eating, her chubby pink cheek pressed against Cin’s breast. “I just can’t.”
“We’ll be here when you get back,” Cin said. “We’ll always be here.”
“I know. That still doesn’t mean I want to be gone from you. Let me take her.” I scooped up Britt, and held my baby girl against my shoulder. No, there was no way I could miss out on six months—or more—of Britt’s life. No way in hell.
“This might be your only chance,” Cin said. “It could make things a lot less difficult for us.”
I sighed, and hugged Britt a little tighter. Cin was referring to an agreement we had with her parents: we could live here with free room and board until we graduated high school. Afterward, if we wanted to stay on we would either need to enroll in college, or get jobs and pay our own way. I knew that Cin had already sent out some college applications, but I’d never planned on college. What I wanted to do was open a store that specialized in comics and collectibles, just like the one my dad used to take me to.
And Cin was right, a year’s worth of a major league salary would go a long way toward me making that store a reality. If I even got picked up by the majors.
“You’re right. I know that. But the fact remains that I don’t want a scholarship, don’t want to be a big-time sports star…all I want is to stay here, and take care of you and Britt.” I tucked a stray hair behind Cin’s ear. “That okay?”
She smiled. “It’s okay. I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t talk to you every day. I’d probably go crazy, and let’s face it, these days that’s a pretty short drive for me.”
I laughed and scooted closer to Cin so I could hug both of my girls. “Me too, baby. I think that’s why we’re made for each other.”
She kissed my jaw. “Maybe so.”
Chapter Eight
Cindy
Prese
nt Day
Despite Patrick’s sour mood the night before, we arrived at the mansion bright and early on Saturday morning in anticipation of Britt and Sam’s wedding. Why, we were so punctual that we were the first ones there. The house staff was nice enough to offer us breakfast, and after we ate, Patrick and I went to the bar, and waited.
And waited.
After an hour or so, one of the mansion’s employees came by and told us that Britt and her entourage had arrived, and were getting ready upstairs in the bridal suites. I excused myself from the bar and went up to the dressing room, expecting a scene that resembled organized chaos. Instead, I found a sleepy bride and a few exhausted bridesmaids.
“Hey, Mom,” Britt said when I entered. Her hair was wound up in large curlers, and she was laying on her side across a couch with her head carefully propped up on the armrest. “Is that what you’re wearing today?” Britt asked, looking over my gray skirt and burgundy pullover sweater.
“My dress is hanging up with the rest of the gowns,” I replied. I left out that I hadn’t put it on at the hotel because I knew Patrick wouldn’t approve of the tight fit or the backless design. He much preferred having me covered from neck to knee is something akin to a potato sack. “Did you sleep at all last night?”
“It’s all Astrid’s fault.” Britt pointed at Astrid, who was lounging on the opposite couch. “Last night, she told us that she’s pregnant. We had to celebrate.”
“The man from the restaurant?” I asked, remembering how Astrid had disappeared through the kitchen doors with the chef, and emerged half an hour later wearing smeared lipstick and a happy grin.
“That’s him,” Astrid replied. “My Donnie. Do you know he said he wants to buy a house?”
“Men get all sorts of crazy notions when they’re in love,” I said. “Congratulations.”
Changing Fate (Changing Teams Series Book 3) Page 3