My mouth had dropped open. I didn’t know how to respond to that.
Rome smashed a home-fucking-run. That ball sailed deep into the back bleachers and my mind told me it went far beyond into the aether. Joe howled wildly while I simply stood in stunned amazement. He had to shake me from my stupor until I unhitched my lovesick brain and realized thatRome just scored us two runs, putting us up by one. The stadium had gone deadly quiet, except for the New England suite blaring with enough noise to wake the dead.
The next batter struck out. We closed the top of the ninth with a score of nine to eight.
The bottom of the ninth passed in a snap-quick blur. Strikeout. Flyout. Someone walked. And then, finally, the third strikeout.
The Riders won. They clinched a postseason spot.
The Texas heat, the 7 & 7, the adoration I felt for Rome, the desire—theneed—to take him to heaven and back, all culminated in a single, profound moment that hit me like a fastball to the head.
I think I’m in love.
?
I kept my interaction with Rome brief. We had no privacy, so a bear of a hug was the most sufficient means of conveying my joy and his appreciation. Joe coughed politely into his fist when Rome refused to let go of me. He smelled like sweat, his neck sticky from his time in the heat. I wanted to crawl under his uniform and consume any and everything he could give me. I needed to…
Another cough. I pulled away from Rome and held him by the shoulders. “You’re taking the flight back with your team.” Rome started to refuse and I talked over him. “No way, Rome. You guys earned this win and I have no doubt they want to celebrate on the flight home. I can’t pull you away from that.”
Rome’s eyes dashed over to Joe, then to me. “Are you sure?”
I smiled. He put up only a perfunctory fight. “Of course I am. Joe said he’ll take the jet to keep me company.” A zing of giddiness ran through me. Joe and I had planned ahead for this after the Riders won. We both knew Rome would want to stay with his teammates but feel obligated to fly with me since he already said he would.
It gave us the perfect opportunity to concentrate on the foundation.
We left Rome to his celebrations with the team. My mind briefly started to calculate the hour we’d arrive home, then promptly shut down when I took into account my appointmentsfor the day.
You can’t juggle all three, I realized as Joe and I climbed into the town car.
Growing my relationship with Rome. Growing my business. Growing the seeds of a charity foundation. I’d have to drop one of them to let the other two survive. Rome would remain on the table—I knew that to be true as much as I knew how damned hot Texas could be. That left me with the excitement of this foundation and the hobby that had been lucrative enough for me to earn a living. I loved photography. I loved the elation of my clients when they saw their pictures. I loved the hours and the randomness, how I didn’t have to log in from nine to five at a cubicle.
But knowing what we were going to do for Danny and Paola would be extended to others in need? That hit me in a spot I hadn’t felt since the doctors declared me cancer free twenty years ago.
What if things go south with Rome?a voice asked me.And you’ve abandoned your photography business to focus on a foundation you’ll never be a part of?
Did I trust Joe enough to broach this topic? I thought it’d be best to get it out of the way during the nascent stages of these efforts. How would I even bring this up? “Hey Joe, what if your cousin dumps me and I’m broke since I shit-canned all my clients?”
You’re overthinking it, a new voice revealed to me. Sanity. Logic.It’s still too early. You haven’t shut down Alex Edwards Photography. Yet.
And so we chatted for three hours during the four-hour flight. Joe had his laptop out and built half of a business plan for the as-of-yet unnamed charity foundation. I arrived back at Rome’s before he did. Gentleman that he was, he didn’t wake me when he crawled into bed. He did, however, draw the blackoutcurtains shut so the morning light didn’t wake us.
We slept until noon and pleasured each other until we went numb. All I could think about was how much more I wanted from him and with him. The excitement that we could build something that lasted was enough to give me confidence. To shut out the doubt. To shut out worries.
To grow my love for Rome.
Chapter Nineteen
Alex
ICLICKEDMYpen closed, dropped it to the desk, and leaned back in my thousand-dollar CEO chair. Ran my hands over my face and blew out a long jet of steam. Before me, my monitor displayed my schedule until the end of the year where I had just finished clearing out clients. A notepad on the desk contained a list of names, ninety percent of which had strike-throughs in the blackest of inks. A finality. An end. Something that spoke to the fate of choice.
Mychoice.
The schedule remained wide open, with a few exceptions here and there, friends who wanted me to take photos for their weddings or token headshots that would take all of ten minutes. In the week since the clincher, Joe had drafted, in secret, a contract with a handsome salary. In two days, I would officially be employed with him where I would continue to work and build the foundation. All of it done under Rome’s nose.
I had yet to tell Devin. I didn’t know how he would react—supportive, I hoped, but the protective side of him would caution me against sliding into the bed of another professional athlete. I liked to think, however, that Devin saw, as much as I knew, that this was different. My adoration for Rome eclipsed anymodicum of fearful love I had with Ricky. The two were worlds apart and my rocket sped toward the right one.
Thankfully, Ricky’s incessant contacting had abated over the last week. As I sat there staring at my blank schedule, a thought occurred. More of a curiosity, really. My fingertips danced across the keyboard before I could think better of it.
