Grand Slam

by Heidi McLaughlin

  My fingers trail up and down his forearm as I prepare to say the words I dread. “You have to leave,” I whisper.

  He groans in response before sighing. “I know, and for the record, I don’t want to. I want to get up, make my girls some breakfast—and by make, I mean order in—and sit on the couch with Lucy and watch cartoons.”

  My eyes grow misty as I fight to keep the tears away. What he wants to do is my picture-perfect Saturday morning, and it’s mocking me, waving its hands to show me that it’s there, but I can’t have it. I want it and the moments that come with having a man around.

  Travis must sense my anguish, because he moves me underneath him and is kissing away my fears. “We’ll be fine,” he vows, breaking me even more on the inside. How he can be so confident when his own life hangs in the balance is beyond me.

  He slides out of bed and quickly starts dressing. Part of me feels dirty for ogling his butt, and instead of calling him back to bed, I get up and change into some sweats. Travis meets me at the end of my bed and gives me a searing kiss, morning breath and all, before nodding toward my door. This is the ultimate walk of shame, hiding from your five-year-old daughter.

  As soon as we enter the hallway, I hear her bed squeak, and the pounding of my heart seems to echo throughout my apartment. Travis tiptoes as fast as he can out of sight, and I pray that he’s able to get out before she sees him.

  “Good morning, sunshine.”

  “Morning,” she says through a yawn. I spread my arms out for a hug, but she bypasses me and heads straight to the living room. I follow and collide with her when she stops suddenly. “Did you bring me pancakes again?”

  I look up and see Travis frozen in the doorway, the hallway light illuminating him.

  “What are you doing here so early?” I ask, trying to play it off.

  “I…uh…”

  “He forgot his coat, Mommy.”

  “Yes—see, I forgot my coat last night and was coming to pick it up,” he says, stepping back into my apartment.

  “But you didn’t bring pancakes?” she asks with a shrug.

  “I wanted to make sure you were awake first. I didn’t want them getting cold,” he tells her.

  “Oh.” She climbs up onto the couch and snuggles into one of the pillows. I turn the television on for her and retreat into the kitchen to make coffee.

  “Sorry,” Travis says as he comes up behind me.

  “For what?” I ask, waiting for the pot to start filling.

  “For not getting out sooner.”

  “It’s fine, Travis. But you better order her some pancakes,” I say with a wink as I quickly move the glass pot out of the way to fill my mug. I need the caffeine to start my morning off right. He makes the all-important phone call, telling the restaurant that he’ll pay double if they’re here within the next fifteen minutes before he heads into the living room.

  Once I’m a few sips into my coffee, I head back to the living room, where I find Travis sprawled out on the couch, fast asleep, and Lucy resting comfortably on his chest, zonked out, too.

  This is how he wanted to start the morning, and I’m happy that he’s gotten his wish, even if I’m slightly jealous of my daughter. Instead of curling in around them, I opt for a shower, using this free time wisely. Usually, I shower with the door open in case Lucy needs me, but today I quietly shut it and plan to let the hot water massage my achy muscles.

  By the time I get out, they’re awake and eating breakfast. I guess the restaurant really wanted double, because I thought I’d have more time.

  “Smells yum…” My words trail off as I get an eyeful of Travis Kidd standing at my sink, washing dishes. Someone pinch me, because I think I’ve died and gone to la-la land. Could he be any sexier than he is right in his moment?

  “It is,” Lucy says with a mouthful.

  “Don’t talk with food in your mouth,” Travis tells her, but he does it in a nonscolding manner. His voice is soft, yet stern, and makes me long to have someone else to help raise her. Being a single mom isn’t a cakewalk, and I do my best, but sometimes I feel like I’m letting her down.

  “What’s your plan for the day?” Travis asks, interrupting my thoughts. When I look at him, he’s smiling, and I have a feeling he’s up to no good.

  “Taking Lucy to meet Santa. She has a list that she would like to give him, and I have a few last-minute things to pick up.”

  “Do you mind if I tag along?”

  “I’m sure you’re busy, Travis. You don’t have to hang out with us.”

  He turns from the sink and leans across the island, smiling. “If I didn’t want to be with you and Lucy, I wouldn’t have asked if I could go with you.”

  I shrug, acting noncommittal even though I want him with us. Yesterday, everything changed, and I’m not referring to the sex. It was a culmination of being with him—everything from the laughing and skating to the stolen kiss. It was the way he was with Lucy when he realized that she was upset, how he pushed his fans away for her. To me, that means everything, and I know deep down that if I want to give him a chance, I should. Maybe if I talked to Jeffrey, he’d understand. But the likelihood is that he won’t, and if I ask him, I’d be putting my job in jeopardy. “If you want to come shopping with us, you can.”

  His smile turns into a megawatt grin. “Perfect. I’m going to go home so I can take a shower and change.” He goes to tell Lucy goodbye, letting her know that he’ll be back shortly so we can go shopping. When he gets to me, he leans in and whispers, “I’ll make sure I have more than one condom this time,” and then he’s gone, leaving me speechless and gasping for air. Only the slamming of the door helps me catch my breath.

  “Bath time, Lucy.” She jumps up and races me to the bathroom. She may be slightly excited to visit the man in the red suit today.

  “Do you think Travis will want to sit on Santa’s lap?”

  I shake my head quickly. “No, I don’t think so,” I say, trying to stifle a laugh. It’s hard to imagine a man Travis’s size sitting on the lap of Santa.

  “Do you love him?”

  Her question catches me off guard. I’m not ready to admit that I’m falling in love with him. It’s almost as if saying those words out loud would shift everything that is being built between us. Instead, I lie to my daughter. “As his friend, yes.”

  Lucy stands in the tub while it’s filling. Why she does this, I’ll never know. But it’s her thing, so I let her do it.

  “I love him.”

  “I’m sure he loves you, too, Lucy.”

  A few moments later, the bathwater is deep enough that I can start helping her wash. I fill up her cup with water and pour it over her head as she sits down. She spits, sputters, and starts laughing as the water cascades over her head, all while asking me to do it again. And I do, repeatedly, until it’s time for me to wash her hair. She can do the rest and prefers to be treated like a big girl.

  With her out of the bath and dried off, I have the dubious task of putting on her tights. These contraptions are ten times worse for kids than they are for adults. The crazy amount of wiggling, twisting, and pulling has Lucy turning into a contortionist.

  “Mommmiieeee.” She drags my name out as I shake her little body into the white nylons.

  “There, all done. Now we can do your hair.” I tug her along behind me, back into the bathroom so I can blow-dry and curl her hair. Last year I did this and burned her forehead. It was an accident. She sneezed and I flinched, bumping the barrel into her skin. I felt horrible, but she reminds me of it every time I go to do her hair. “I’ll do the ends only, okay?”

  She eyes me suspiciously through the mirror. I wink and blow her a kiss as I get started on her locks.

  Once I have her hair done, I do mine quickly and then help her get into her dress.

  “Do you think Travis will think I’m pretty?” she asks as I button the back of her red velvet dress.

  “Of course he will. Now step,” I say, placing her snow boot on her foot.
This is the downfall of having to take the train everywhere—dressing for the outside elements. When we get to the mall, she’ll change into black patent shoes.

  I send her back to the living room so I can get dressed and finish putting on my makeup. I opt for jeans and a sweater and start laughing to myself as I remember how long it took me to undress for Travis last night. Trying to be sexy during the winter is hard, although you can definitely make up for it when you’re sitting by the fire.

  A knock at the door has me scrambling to put my boots on, and Lucy yells that she’ll get it, even though she knows she’s not allowed to. I follow closely behind her and am there when she opens the door. Travis stands there, looking dapper in his peacoat, jeans, and from what I can tell, another sweater. However, what catches my attention are the flowers that he’s holding.

  “These are for my two favorite girls.” He extends both hands, each of which holds red roses—one set for me, the other for Lucy.

  “See, I told you he loves me,” Lucy says as she takes her flowers. Travis winks, and that simple gesture turns my insides into a quivering mess.

  I take the other bouquet and hold them to my nose and inhale. “They smell so good.”

  “Like you,” he says, leaning in and taking his own deep breath. “Fuck, Saylor, I can’t wait for tonight.”

  “And what makes you think anything will happen?”

  He steps back and appraises me before smirking. “Nothing has to. I only want to be in the same room with you, and I’ll be happy.”

  While Travis Kidd’s future continues to hang in the balance, he’s not slowing down. Many have e-mailed to let us know that Kidd has been spending time with a mysterious woman and her daughter. Sources close to the Kidd tell us that the woman in question is his publicist and that she’s helping him with his image. However, there is speculation that he is the father of the young child and the woman in question is a former ex. We are unable to confirm the true identity at this time.

  Over the course of covering Kidd’s career and off-the-field antics, never once have we come across a paternity claim.

  In team-related news, the waiver wire is active, and general manager Ryan Stone has been offering deals to some of the best pitchers in the league. Let’s hope that Stone can sign some star talent that will put us into the playoffs.

  It is also being speculated that Steve Bainbridge will hang up his cleats for a tie, taking a job in the front office. If this is the case, we wish Bainbridge a happy retirement and thank him for staying with the organization.

  Happy holidays from the BoRe Blogger

  Twenty-Three

  Travis

  I’m the type of guy who brushes everything under the rug. If you don’t like me, okay. If you think my game sucked or I didn’t do a good enough job for you, fine. If you want to think that I had to rape a woman in order to get her attention, well, that is where I draw the line. And as much as I want to ignore the recent articles about my life, I can’t, because they involve Saylor and Lucy. Saylor’s biggest fear is coming to life, and I can’t bury this or make it go away.

  The flowers I brought are a peace offering. It was my intention to tell her everything that I read this morning, until they both opened the door. To see Lucy dressed up and Saylor smile when we made eye contact had me second-guessing opening my mouth. If I did, I’d ruin their day. And mine, but I don’t matter right now. My issues are things that I have to deal with, and I knew better than to bring Saylor into the mix. She already has her reservations about us, and now everyone knows about her because I’m selfish and couldn’t stay away.

  Handing them their roses and seeing their reactions pained me. This could very well be the last time we’re together like this. It’s not going to matter that I’ll promise to protect her and Lucy or make sure that Jeffrey doesn’t fire her. I opened her up and left her vulnerable. I encouraged the hand holding, and I kissed her out in public. Because of me, she’s on every sports blog and newspaper, being called every name you can think of. And it’s being speculated that I’m Lucy’s dad, which honestly doesn’t bother me.

  “Okay, our flowers are in water. I think we’re ready to go.”

  I push off the doorframe and reach for Lucy’s hand, and Saylor takes her other one once she has the door locked. Looking down at our conjoined hands, I can’t help but smile and think that someday this could be permanent for the three of us. That’s if she’ll be able to forgive me.

  There was a time in my life when I never thought about marriage or a long-term commitment. In fact, I teased the shit out of my teammates for even seeing a piece of ass more than once. My feelings changed when I met Saylor, even though I kept them bottled up. I never told the guys about her, and I continued to lie to myself each and every time I was with another woman. Sure, I’ve had girlfriends in the past, but nothing that lasted more than a week at best. One night with Saylor made me feel different.

  As we walk to the train station, I realize I probably could’ve driven, but I have opted not to since my life was flipped upside down. Walking allows me to evade the press when they start to follow. It’s nothing for me to slip through an alley, disappear into a store, or go in through the back door, much like I did this morning when I returned to Saylor’s. By all accounts, I should’ve canceled, but I needed one last day with them before she shuts me out for good.

  The train is packed, causing me to pull my stocking cap down lower than I usually like to wear it. I hang on to the upper rail and hover over Saylor and Lucy while they share a seat with an older lady.

  Lucy is prattling on about all the things she wants for Christmas. The list is long and probably what every kid is asking for this year. A quick glance at Saylor shows me that the joyfulness in her earlier demeanor is already gone. You don’t have to be a genius to figure out why. Everything that Lucy is listing, Saylor can’t afford, which leads me back to a question I asked a while ago—where is Lucy’s father?

  My name is mumbled among the crowd, but I focus on Lucy and Saylor. I promised Lucy that all my attention would be on her when we’re together. I’m not the only player like this either. Steve Bainbridge refuses to sign autographs when he’s with his kids. After the other night, I get it. Children don’t like to share what’s important to them. And honestly, neither do I.

  The moment our train comes to a stop, we’re in the thick of the crowd trying to get off, and join the massive population of shoppers. Carolers are on one street corner, and a vendor selling roasted nuts is on the other, all while holiday music plays from the loudspeakers. This could be overwhelming for some people.

  We duck into Macy’s and meander through the overly crowded aisles. People bump into us, some polite, others not so much, and finally we end up at the tail end of the mile-long line to see the man in red.

  “You know, I could go up there and tell them who I am, and we’d be able to cut.”

  Saylor shakes her head. “Can you just be our Travis for right now?”

  A lump forms in my throat as I process what she said to me. “Our Travis.” I like that—a lot, in fact. I nod and remove my coat but leave my hat on. Some disguise is better than none when I’m out in public like this.

  Saylor works to change Lucy’s shoes while I help Lucy stay upright. She gives her mom a bit of an attitude, and I find myself wanting to say something, but it’s not my place.

  “When’s it my turn?” Lucy whines. She crosses her arms and huffs, clearly irritating Saylor.

  “Why don’t you guys go walk around? I’ll hold our place in line,” I offer, but Saylor shakes her head.

  “If Lucy wants to see Santa, she needs to wait in line with the rest of the kids.” Saylor says this while looking directly at Lucy.

  “I’m thirsty,” Lucy says, but this time she’s pouting. I feel like I’m about to cave in when she bats her eyelashes, playing me like a fiddle.

  “Um…”

  “Don’t,” Saylor says sternly. I shut my mouth and pretend like my feelings aren’t
hurt. She crouches down in front of Lucy and straightens out her dress. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I don’t like this little ’tude you’re giving me. We can leave if you don’t want to see Santa.”

  “I’m tired,” she says, whining again. Saylor nods and goes to pick Lucy up, but I stop her.

  “I’ll hold her.” I hand Saylor my coat and scoop Lucy up into my arms. And much like last night, her tiny arms wrap around me as she snuggles into my neck.

  “She’s probably heavy.”

  I shake my head. “I could bench-press her and not break a sweat.”

  It’s almost an hour before we finally reach Santa. Lucy is full of pep as she sits on his lap and tells him everything she wants. I’m mentally taking it all in so I can try to make sure at least a few of these things are delivered to her.

  With a happy child between us, we decide to grab lunch. Every place at the mall has a wait, and I finally use my name to get us a table.

  “You shouldn’t have done that. Other people are waiting,” Saylor points out as she places her napkin on her lap.

  “I know, but I’m hungry, and I don’t like waiting.”

  She rolls her eyes and I reach under the table and place my hand on her knee. My heart races, knowing that I have to tell her about the shit I read this morning, but this isn’t the right time or place to do that. I won’t be able to wait once we get back to her place either. If I make a move and tell her afterward, I’ll look like a fucking prick.

  We place our order and make small talk in between helping Lucy color her kiddie sheet that happens to be a BoRe baseball player. They gave her a red and a blue crayon to fill in his uniform.

  “How do you spell your name?” she asks me.