forty-seven
It’s game day, andI’m dreading it.
I knew the day would come where I would have to pitch against Jeremy Anderson, but I truly hoped he’d be out for the rest of this season.
The fact that a few gossip websites picked up on Isabella Morales being the Izzy who was once briefly engaged to that asshole doesn’t help my mood either.
The jersey-chasing accusations were quick to pop up, but between my attorneys sending cease and desist letters left and right and Nick’s media company, we’ve been able to keep the murmurs at bay for the most part.
At least Isa hasn’t read any of that crap.
Ever since she saw that we made front page news, she made a promise to never seek out information about herself on the internet. In her words: “If it’s not written by me, then whatever is put out there is a brand of fiction that I’m not subscribing to. I’m the only author of my story. Everyone else’s is fanfic.”
And we’re lucky. Without Nick’s intervention, a story like ours could have spiraled in the media, especially with the little-known fact that she was my daughter’s nanny.
I know many reporters who are foaming at the mouth to write something negative about me, but I never give them a reason to.
At least I hope not to, because as I gear up in the locker room, I can feel the tension in the air. The guys are amped up, knowing this is the game that decides whether we make it to our very first World Series as the New York Monarchs.
I know how important this is to everyone, especially the guys who haven’t earned a ring yet. I need to keep my head in the game, but I understand that we’re a team, and I need to let them know where my mind is at in order for us to perform on a higher level.
“Yo, guys. Bring it in for a second.”
My teammates, in various stages of undress, walk up to where I stand by my locker, wearing looks of intrigue. “Okay, I’m gonna keep this short. We all know that this is a big game, and we’re more than capable of taking home the win.” Various cheers and curses erupt out of the adrenaline-pumped bodies around me. “But I need to let you all know what else is playing on my mind tonight. Number six from the Sparks is my woman’s ex-fiancé. He did her dirty in the past, so you can say I’m not too keen on the guy. He’s been out most of the season on an injury, and tonight, he decides to come back. The fact that a picture of me and my girl has been circulating everywhere probably hasn’t made it easy on his ego, so I’m anticipating some shit talking here and there.” I nod as I see the men around me take on protective stances, as if Isabella were in the room with us right now. And my heart softens a bit more for the guys I’m lucky to call family. “Now, I have no problem taking care of this the way I know best, out on the field. But I just needed you guys to know in case it gets a little hostile out there. Got it?” Grunts and a coupleoffuck yeahs are thrown around. “Good. Now let’s get our asses out there and win this damn thing.”
The team starts to file out of the locker room, chanting and slapping each other’s chests. I’m about to join them when I see Coach leaning against his office door, staring at me intently. A barely perceptible dip of his head is all I get. And it’s all I need as I make my way out to the tunnel that’ll lead me to victory.
I warm up and try my best to ignore the other team. It usually isn’t a problem, but I’m on high alert today.
Anna has a cold, so she’s skipping tonight and staying with my mother.
The chilly October temps have arrived, but it’s still not fully coat season, so I’m able to see the sea of Monarchs jerseys in the crowd.
I look for Isabella, but she’s not in her usual seat. Maybe she took my advice and decided to watch the game from my suite, away from the rowdy crowd.
Ever since her picture hit the papers, she’s been stopped everywhere she goes. For pictures, autographs, or for a statement. She’s handled it like a pro, and the only statements she’s given are her bodega food orders. In turn, it’s brought a surge of business to her local food spots.
I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For something to break her, or us. I feel like I’m constantly waiting on the sidelinesto swoop her up and save her. Yet at every turn, she ends up saving herself, and it makes me love her a little more each day.
I’m making my way to the dugout when I hear a change in the crowd’s cheers.
I can tell it isn’t for me, since they’re yelling into the stands. I look up, searching for who might be the cause of this circus, when I spot Charlie. He’s walking closely behind my Isabella, who has taken a seat in the front row right behind home plate. In direct line of sight from the pitcher’s mound.
She waves at the people seated around her graciously as Charlie mean mugs the hell out of them and reminds everyone to keep their hands to themselves.
Gotta remember to give him a raise for that.
She spots me looking at her and instantly raises a finger, indicating that I should stay and wait.
She’s wearing dark jeans and a thick hoodie with an oversized Monarchs jersey over it. She pops the hood on top of her head, covering her beautiful curly hair, and slowly starts to spin.
I’m already grinning, because no matter what name she’s rocking today, she knows I love our little game. And she probably knows that this is exactly what I needed to keep my mind on her and not on who I’m about to play against.
As her back fully turns to me, I let out a loud laugh.
She’s wearing my damn jersey.
Fucking finally.
