“Well, I don’t know where this article is from, but it is about me.” I pause, waiting for her reply and only getting silence in response. “Mom?”
“What do you mean, it is about you? What are you talking about?”
“I’m dating a professional baseball player.” I’m bracing myself for her shock and disdain. Instead, another long pause grates on my nerves.
“Why?”
“Why? Because I like him?” I hate always having to defend myself to her.
“Lila, this is not how we do things in this family.” I’m glad she can’t see me because I can’t roll my eyes hard enough at her statement. She’s so holier than thou, always obsessed with keeping up appearances. “You’re supposed to marry a doctor, not throw your morals away for a loose ballplayer. Please tell me you’ve been tested. You should know better.” I choke on my own spit at her words.
“I didn’t realize I signed on for an arranged marriage. Do you have a doctor picked out or do I at least have a say in the matter?”
“Lila, please, you’re giving me a headache.”
“And who said anything about marriage, anyway?” I continue my rant as if she hasn’t even spoken. She’s been pulling this same move with me since I was a kid. It’s time for a taste of her own medicine. “I didn’t drop out of school and find a post on the streets to make my way through the men of Boston. I’m dating a nice guy who is successful. I’m still going to graduate school—”
“To be a nurse.” My mother couldn’t sound more condescending if she tried.
“Some people would say nurses do more work than doctors!” I’m yelling into the phone now and my headache has officially returned. I continue before she can get another word in. “Mother, I have to go. Send my love to Dad,” I add with a sneer and hang up.
Ugh! I growl and throw my phone onto the couch. How those two people made two children with even a modicum of personality and respect for others proves nature can over-influence nurture. Or maybe it’s because we were primarily raised by nannies. Either way, genetics don’t necessarily go a long way.
By the time I cool off, the game is over and I’m not even sure which team won. I storm off into the bedroom and search through the closet to find something nice to wear. I settle on a black tie-back satin romper and black wedges. I think I’ve ripped out half of my hair by the time I finish taking my aggression out on my poor blonde strands.
I could really use a glass of wine right now to deal with the aftermath of my mother, but my stomach doesn’t feel up to it quite yet. I’ll have to pretend I’m turning my water into wine. Call me Jesus.
The front door opens and closes and Hollis rounds the corner with a smile on his face. I’ll take his mood as an indicator that the Sox won. He spots me where I’m standing over the kitchen island. “You look beautiful.” He comes to me and presses a kiss on my forehead. He backs away and assesses my rigid features. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m sorry. Forget it.” I run my hand over my hair, smoothing out both my flyaways and my frustrations.
“Talk to me. It’s obviously not nothing.” I bite my lip, debating if I want to open the world’s largest can of worms with him right now. I get my answer in the form of a knock on the front door. That must be my brother.
“Later,” I promise and give him a quick peck on the lips.
“I’m gonna get a quick shower.”
I nod and off he goes.
Opening the front door, my brother looks handsome in his button down and dark jeans. “Sorry if I’m underdressed. I didn’t anticipate any fancy dinners.”
“You look fine. Come on in.” He follows me back into the kitchen. “Can I get you anything?”
“No thanks.” Things are kind of tense between us and I’m reminded of his text to me earlier. He’s worried about me. Christ. I can’t deal with any more family drama today.
“Hollis should only be another minute,” I tell him merely to fill the air with words instead of tension.
Jackson and I never had this issue before. We didn’t fight much as kids except over who got to go first in the game Operation. He always won. Maybe if he let me win a few times, I’d be going to medical school and wouldn’t be the embarrassment of the Fielding family.
We decided to meet at the apartment and ride over to the restaurant together since my brother doesn’t have a car here and the hotel he’s staying at is only a few blocks away. It made everything easier. Now, however, I’m almost wishing he would’ve just met us downtown. This awkwardness between us is too much for me to bear.
My brother and I are standing on opposite sides of the kitchen, separated by the large island between us. We’re barely looking at each other and Hollis takes notice as soon as he emerges from the hallway.
“Hey, man, good to see you.” He shakes Jackson’s hand and risks a quick glance at me, eyebrow quirked, the question loud on his face. I shrug, truly not sure what the problem is. “You guys ready to go?”
“Let me grab my purse.” After grabbing my bag, I follow Jackson out the door and Hollis follows behind me. We head down to the garage under the building and climb into my boyfriend’s black BMW to take us to the restaurant downtown.
I almost wish we were staying in, so we could hash out whatever the issue is in private. Then again, maybe being in a public place will keep everyone on their best behavior—myself included.
Hollis is in dark jeans and a gray shirt, likely his attempt at being incognito. The city is always busy after any sports game, but especially when we’re winners. Boston has been a new level of insane these days since the Sox are having one hell of a season.
Hollis keeps his hat on and pulled down as we’re seated toward the back of the restaurant. I slide in one side of the booth next to him while my brother sits across from us, his expression still annoyingly surly.
When the waitress comes, I decide to take my chances against angering my weak stomach and order a glass of wine to get through this dinner. Both of them stick to water and my brother makes a show out of rolling his judgmental eyes at me.
“Enough, Jackson, what the hell is your problem?” I guess I’m not going to be on my best behavior after all.
“I don’t want to do this here.” If my brother got anything from my parents, it’s his manners and obsession with appearances.
“Well, I can’t sit here and act like everything is fine while the two of you make small talk.” Hollis fidgets in his seat but doesn’t say anything.
The waitress returns with our drinks and I take a gulp of chilled white wine.
Jackson sighs and his blue eyes are full of concern as he stares into mine. “Lila, I’m worried about you. You’re not being yourself.”
“What are you talking about?” My eyes are narrow as I glance to Hollis in the off chance he knows what’s going on. By the looks of it, he’s as in the dark and uncomfortable as I am right now.
“I’ve never seen you drink the way you have been. Last night was not okay. What if I wasn’t with you? Are you drinking like that at every game? This guy you’re with is obviously not looking out for you,” Jackson says as though my boyfriend isn’t right across the table from him.
“Hey, man—” Hollis starts to defend himself, but I stop him.
“I got this,” I insist, a palm resting on my boyfriend’s forearm. “I don’t know where this is coming from, but you have no right to accuse Hollis of not watching out for me. If you have a problem with me, fine, let’s talk it out, but don’t drag him into it. You don’t even know him.”
“I’ve seen enough.”
“Jackson.”
“Lila, come on. If you need to drink to have a good time, maybe this lifestyle isn’t for you. You’ve been having second thoughts anyway, right? Maybe you should take a step back.” How dare he throw my words back at me?
“What is he talking about?” Hollis’ voice is low and even, but there’s an undercurrent of hurt that can’t be missed.
“Dammit, Jackson, st
op. You don’t know what you’re talking about. I was drinking because I was having a good time with you. I’m drinking now because I’m so fucking stressed between you and Mom calling me.” I thought my brother would react to the news of my mom calling, but his face remains smooth, unaffected. Suddenly, everything clicks into place. “Dad doesn’t have an intern, does he? I’m such an idiot. You called them. Why?”
“Because I’m worried about you and they should know what’s going on.”
“It’s not like they care.” It used to be me and my brother against my parents, but now it feels like three-on-one and I’m the island.
“Lila, you’re traipsing across the country with this guy you barely know, you’re drinking, and doing God knows what else. This isn’t you. You’ve never been this…this…reckless.”
“You mean I’ve never had fun? Sue me for wanting to live my life and have a good time for once. I’m not going to strip clubs and snorting cocaine out of a strippers ass crack. I think a few baseball games are a little more acceptable than that.”
“Stop with your dramatics. I can’t talk to you when you act like this.” My brother leans back against the booth, effectively giving up on both me and this conversation.
“Well, I can’t talk to you when you act like Mom.”
Jackson’s mouth falls open. Honestly, that might be the meanest thing I’ve ever said to him.
It’s not until then I realize the waitress has returned. “So…are you guys going to need a few minutes?”
TWENTY
Lila
To say the drive back to the apartment is tense would be the understatement of this decade. My elbow rests against the window ledge, my fist supporting my head. Every time we hit a bump or a pothole I basically punch myself in the face. It might be appropriate after the day I’ve had.
The minute the car is in park, Jackson hops out of the backseat and storms down the block toward his hotel.
“Jackson, wait.” I hop out of the car and call after him, but with a wave of his hand, he dismisses me. “Have a safe trip,” I mutter under my breath. God, this sucks.
Hollis comes around his car and I follow him to the elevators. He punches the button with angry force and stews off to the side, waiting for the car to arrive. I guess I could say he and my brother didn’t exactly hit it off. Not to mention, my parents already hate him. I should probably start packing my things.
The ride up to the apartment is silent. There’s not even terrible elevator music playing to alleviate some of the tension. We continue in silence as we walk down the hall and I wait for him to open the apartment door. It seems he’s not in the mood to talk when he storms off toward the bedroom. I follow him, numb from the day’s events.
Sitting on the bed, I undo the strap on my wedge and toss the shoe onto the floor, repeating the steps with my other foot. Hollis comes out, all quiet and brooding, and picks my shoes up off the floor and places them back in line in the closet.
“I would’ve picked them up.” He doesn’t say anything as he undresses and pushes his clothes into the dirty hamper. “I’m sorry about my brother.”
He scoffs and turns to look at me wearing nothing but his boxer briefs. “I’m not mad about your brother.”
“Then why are you mad?”
“I’ll tell you why I’m mad if you tell me what you’re having second thought about.” He crosses his arms over his chest and his brows are furrowed into a deep v.
“Well, I think you just told me what you’re mad about.” He doesn’t think my quip is cute. “We’ve had this conversation a hundred times. I’m scared because I fell for you and soon I’ll be leaving for school and I don’t know what that will mean for us.”
“You’re right, we have had this conversation. Countless times. I thought we’d moved past this.”
“Just because we talked about it doesn’t make the fear disappear into the wind. Hollis, anything can change in the next two months. I’m trying to be smart about this. I told my brother something in confidence and he blew it out of proportion.”
“You should be talking to me about things affecting our relationship, not anyone else.”
“Oh, so I can’t call my friends and family to talk about you? Do you want me to sign a nondisclosure agreement and keep me shackled to the bed with no outside contact? I didn’t realize you were the possessive type.”
“I’m not, but I am a public figure and you telling people things can leak back to the wrong people. If you say shit like that, the next thing I know I’ll read about it on a magazine in the grocery store checkout line. You can’t be so thoughtless.” I feel like I’ve been slapped.
“Thoughtless? Sorry, prima donna, I didn’t realize you were so important. Please, can I have your autograph? Maybe I can sell it on eBay and put myself through nursing school.”
“I’m not trying to be dramatic here, Lila, but…dammit. You were yelling back at the restaurant and it was bringing a lot of unnecessary attention to us. Attention I don’t need or want. Don’t you understand that?”
“Where is this coming from? Maybe you should’ve laid out the rules before I got into this.” He storms around the bed, angrily pulling back the covers and climbing onto his side of the king mattress.
“I guess I thought we could make this work through anything. Clearly, I was wrong.” Tears burn my eyes at his harsh words.
I’m still sitting with my back to him, my feet dangling off the bed. I turn my body halfway to look at him, but he’s rolled away from me, facing the opposite wall.
How did this day turn to such shit? And how the hell do I fix it?
Hollis is already gone when I wake up. I was hoping to talk to him since we’ve slept on it and cooled off, but I guess it will have to wait until later. I do the only thing I can think of and call the one person who surely can help me.
“Gotta be quick I only have twenty minutes.” The minute my best friend answers the phone I feel the emotion rising up my throat.
“I think me and Hollis are over.”
“Do I need to fly up there and kick his ass?” I snot-laugh, making the most unflattering noise.
I give her the gory details, focusing on the call with my parents and Jackson’s betrayal. “To be fair,” I add, “I don’t think it was Jackson’s plan to turn on me with the ‘rents. Some part of me deep down does believe he was worried and being overprotective.”
“Doesn’t give him an excuse to act like an ass.”
I agree with her, but I need actual advice, not easy statements. “What do I do, B?”
“Is what Jackson said true? Are you second guessing everything?”
“You know I’ve had my doubts since the beginning. Those concerns are still valid.” I sigh and start pacing the room in an attempt to wear down my anxiety. “I thought this was going to be a fun summer fling. I didn’t expect…this.”
“I’m sorry, Lila, but you’re not exactly the no strings attached kind of girl. Don’t get me wrong, that’s okay. But…Hollis doesn’t seem the type either. I mean, your first date was a romantic picnic on the pitcher’s mound. It didn’t even end with a kiss.”
“Okay, then we’re back to my original question. What do I do? I love him, B.”
“I think that’s your answer.”
Can it really be that simple? I love him and he loves me. Shouldn’t love be enough? Does it say more that I keep questioning things and pushing him away? Hollis has done nothing to suggest this is merely a one-off hookup summer fling. Logically, I’m aware of the seriousness of our relationship.
It may seem like a sudden whirlwind romance, but we are living together. I don’t know why I can’t let my fear go and just accept it. I don’t know why I’m so afraid to be happy.
It’s probably because I don’t exactly have stellar role models in the romance and affection department. The nursing side of my brain likes to tap into my psychology knowledge. I need to stop being a broken record and just saying things. I need to commit to Hollis and this relatio
nship long term. I need to throw caution to the wind and about four hundred other clichés I can think of.
I need to prove myself to him. A grand gesture. And I think I have just the idea.
TWENTY-ONE
Hollis
I worked out a little too hard before the game and my shoulder is bordering on frost-bite thanks to the ice pack strapped to it. Lila is getting in my head and now she’s affecting my game, or well, my work-out, anyway. I can’t afford these mistakes. It could affect my career before it even really begins.
Luckily, I don’t pitch today or tomorrow so I can rest and take it easy, but that’s not the point. I’m angry at Lila and I don’t want to be, but she’s so…stubborn. She’s got this idea in her head of how things are supposed to work and what she thinks will happen and she’s not even willing to give it a chance.
Maybe bringing her on the road with me off the bat was a bad idea. She got mixed in with Owen, captain of the sleazeball team, and she thinks I’ll be the same way when we’re apart, but I only look at Jimmy and his wife and see all the ways we can make this work.
I need her to try. She needs to want to make it work or we’re doomed before we even have a chance.
We have one more series at home this week and then we head out for a series of away games. Maybe I’ll play around with the idea of leaving Lila behind this time. It could be good for us. This way, she’ll have a chance to miss me and acclimate to being apart. She’d be able to see how easy it could be.
Then again, what if she doesn’t miss me? What if being apart is what she needs to sever us even further? I want to give her space but not too much. I don’t want to lose her and sometimes I feel like her foot is already one step out the door, ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.
What if she’s already gone? Moved out while I’m here since I left her alone today? This could’ve been my biggest mistake yet and now I’m trapped until the game is over, unable to see or talk to her. I can’t even call or text her. I doubt she’s going to show up to today’s game. Fuck. What have I done?
Fastball Flirt (The Boys of Summer Series Book 1) Page 12
