Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 80953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
79
“Hot Dog Day can’t come before Hoodie Day!” Mitch Addenheim, one of our senior marketers, slammed his fist on the table like he was preparing for war. I stifled a yawn and drew my best impression of Mitch’s hot dog on the edge of my agenda. It wasn’t impressive. “I’ve got suppliers already lined up and committed, plus the calendar magnets printed.”
I glanced at my watch as discreetly as possible, tuning out the argument between Mitch and the others, an issue with our hoodie manufacturer creating a mini-crisis of sorts. It was just after eleven. Forty minutes of hoodie discussions and I was over it. I cleared my throat and Mitch stopped mid-sentence.
“Keep the current scheduling. We’ll hand out the hoodies that we have and issue vouchers for the rest. It’ll give them an excuse to come back to another game.” I waited a half-moment; no objections presented, and moved on. “What’s next? Kirsten?”
The blonde stood, taking over, and I flipped the agenda over, skimming the remaining topics, my mind struggling to stay on point. Three days since I had seen Chase on the field. I hadn’t gone back, the last two nights restless, my legs twitching, my eyes darting to the clock as each grew later. Titan had laid by the back door, too well trained to whine, his eyes following me every time I stood. Normally, during a home week, I was there every night. But not this week. Half of it was self-punishment. The other half? Self-preservation.
I was in hell. Going crazy with thoughts of him, with the anticipation. I couldn’t pull through the stadium gates without searching the cars, wondering if his was there. I sweated through games in the skybox, every glance at him torture, his eyes up, on our box, the contact so frequent that I both dreaded and expected Tobey’s mention of it. A mention that never came, the observation missed, everyone oblivious to what was being screamed, at top volume, for all the world to hear.
I thought women enjoyed affairs. I thought they got sparks of pleasure at the buzz of their phone, thought they ran around with a glow, their world suddenly on fire with new love. I thought they were women with terrible husbands and unhappy lives, an affair the first step in an eventual ending of their marriage. I thought that they were horrible, selfish women. I never thought that I would be one of them. I never thought that I’d be so weak. It turned out being the perfect wife was only easy when there was no temptation, no mistake haunting and overshadowing your marriage.
I loved Tobey. Another man shouldn’t be able to tempt you when you loved your husband. But love felt like a flat emotion with Tobey, something that had grown with time, a winding of two lives, built on a foundation of friendship and respect. I was attracted to him. We had sex, a more active life than most couples. We had all of those building blocks that make a marriage strong … yet one touch from Chase, and I’d crumbled. One moment of eye contact and I’d broken. One hour of throwing a ball with him and I’d been ready to pack up everything and leave my husband.
What kind of woman was I?
What kind of love did that?
Regardless of the reasons, or of my justifications, this entire situation was wrong. It was a black hole, each day with Tobey pushing me deeper, my claw to the surface, to the maintenance of my marriage, getting harder and harder.
I had to go to the fields that night. Not to see him, but just for a breather. I was a drowning woman, and needed my field, my grass, my dirt. I needed to pound up a flight of stadium stairs and stand in front of an eighty-mile per hour pitching machine. I needed a release, or else I just might go crazy.
80
The ending of everything didn’t come quickly. Pieces of my life flaked off, caught by the wind and scattered, too quickly for me to capture. It didn’t matter; I didn’t want to capture them. I stood in the wind, arms outstretched, and willed it to happen.
Maybe that made me selfish. Maybe that made me smart.
This time, I saw Chase before Titan did, his shape dark, way out by the bullpen. I could have left, gone to a different part of this enormous complex. Or called security and asked them to clear the field. I didn’t. I stepped out onto the damp grass, and jogged toward him, Titan loping ahead, his ears up, gait relaxed.
“Hey.” He tossed a ball toward me as I approached.
I caught it and hefted it back. “Hey.”
“Had given up on you coming.”
“Yet you’re here.”
“Oh, you thought I came here to see you?” He smirked, and my heart soared. “Not a chance.”