Not only that, but it seems like she broke into my daughter’s bedazzling kit. Because this jersey reads MY MAN MARTINEZ on the back.
She turns back my way, clearly proud of her little stunt, and raises her wrist and wiggles her bracelet.
I do the same, because I refused to take it off for tonight’s game.
She mouths anI love you, and I return it with ate amo.
She acts like she is swooning and starts to fan her face with her hand while batting her eyelashes. I shake my head and mouthbratback at her as she continues to giggle.
I blow her a kiss, which makes the throng of people around her cheer louder. She blows a quick one back and gives me a cute thumbs-up.
I can do this.
One more game, and we’re in the World Series.
With Isabella’s encouragement, I make it down into the dugout, fully zoning in and ready to play.
One way or another, Jeremy Anderson is going to learn a lesson tonight, and I’m much too eager to teach it to him.
forty-eight
I’m bouncing in myseat, and it has nothing to do with the cold.
Mateo is striking out players left and right, and it’s reminding me of that first game I attended, when I wore Anthony’s jersey.
It’s clear that he’s a man on a mission, and so far, the other team hasn’t been able to get a single hit or man on first base.
This is good.
This has the potential of being another shutout game.
And then the Monarchs would make history as the first team in MLB history to make it to the World Series in their first year as a team.
During the second inning, Charlie and I got up to get some snacks. Or at least that was my excuse, because I needed a moment to walk off my lingering nerves.
I haven’t seen him yet, but I know he’s here.
The monster from my past waiting for me around the corner.
I ran into Luisa, and she looked more stressed than usual. I know that this is a big game for her as well, since it’s her first season as the general manager, and I’m sure she feels like she has something to prove.
Nick spared us no mind as he stalked past us, speaking threateningly into his phone that seemed seconds away from snapping in his hold.
Luisa tracked him like a hawk, and I took pleasure in the slight distraction of the game happening below me.
We make it back to our seats by the third inning. The score is 2-0 in favor of the Monarchs.
Mateo spots me immediately as I take my seat, and the tension in his shoulders subsides slightly.
I lift the hot cocoa in my hand and give him another thumbs-up, letting him know I was on a snack run and that I’m doing okay.
His face remains unreadable for the camera, but I see the slight crinkle around his eyes as he blows out a breath and starts swinging his arm around for the next batter.
But in the next second, the temperatures seem to drop, and the air from Mateo’s nostrils comes out in a puff of white smoke, like a bull who’s just spotted a red flag.
And in my bones, I know the moment has come.
Jeremy Anderson, number six for the San Diego Sparks, starts to make his way to the plate, waving at the Monarchs fans who are clearly booing him.
