Unforgettable: A Small Town Second Chance Sports Romance

by Melanie Harlow

  Tyler spoke up. “This is completely up to you, Robin. April and I are willing to handle it whichever way you think is best for your family. We could try to keep completely silent and hope for the best, or we could try to get out ahead of it.”

  “How would we do that?” Chip asked.

  “Tyler’s family knows a local reporter we could go to with the story,” I explained. “That way we could go public with it on our terms.”

  “I’m thinking . . .” Robin rose to her feet and paced back and forth. “I used to work in PR. I think Tyler is right. What if we made this a story about family ties, about how adoption can create all kinds of wonderful nontraditional family relationships? You see all those stories now about DNA testing and how people are discovering their roots and connecting with people they didn’t even know they were related to. Those are uplifting stories that make people feel good, don’t you think? This could be that kind of story.”

  “I agree completely,” I said. “That’s a great idea. I love the idea of a pro-adoption story. Tyler?” I looked over at him.

  “I’m all in, whatever you guys decide.”

  Robin looked at Chip. “How do you feel about this, honey?”

  “About being related to one of the greatest pitchers in the game? I think it’s awesome.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Tyler said, but I could tell he’d liked hearing it. “And maybe you should take some time as a family to talk it over. There will be reporters calling, possibly knocking on your door. People at school will talk.”

  “I’m okay with it,” he insisted. “I’m more than okay with it.”

  Robin looked at us and smiled. “I think we have a plan.”

  “Good.” I rose to my feet, and Tyler followed suit. “We should go—I have to get over to Cloverleigh for an event tonight—but we’ll be in touch soon.”

  “Sounds good.” Robin shook her head. “I’m still trying to wrap my brain around this. Life never stops throwing you curveballs, does it?”

  “Nope,” Tyler said. “I can attest to that.”

  Chip rose to his full height, and it struck me again how much he took after Tyler—even the way he got up from a chair. I wondered if there were other similar idiosyncrasies they’d discover over time. “Is it okay to tell my friends?” he asked.

  “It’s okay with me,” Tyler said with a shrug. “My family already knows.”

  “And we told my parents last night,” I added. My parents had reacted the same way we all had—with shock and disbelief giving way to joy and excitement. They couldn’t wait to meet Chip, their bonus grandson, they called him, and my heart had filled with love and pride at the way they treated Tyler. He’d been so nervous, but they’d welcomed him with a hug and a handshake, and made him feel at home.

  “Did you really?” Robin smiled and shook her head. “I remember your mother very fondly. How is she?”

  “She’s great. Both she and my dad are so excited to meet you all. And everyone is invited to my dad’s retirement party, which is also a huge celebration for Cloverleigh’s fortieth anniversary. It’s happening a week from tonight. And maybe before that, sometime this week, we could all get together for an introduction.”

  “Thank you,” said Robin. “That sounds nice, if you think it won’t be too much.”

  “Not at all,” I assured her. “They understand why it took so long for this to happen, but now they don’t want to waste any more time being strangers. They’re really into family.”

  “I am too,” said Robin. “And I couldn’t agree more.”

  “Can I come to the party too?” Cecily asked.

  “You sure can,” I told her. “There will definitely be some kids there your age. I have lots of nieces and even a nephew. I’ll introduce you. They’ll be like bonus cousins!”

  The young girl smiled. “Awesome.”

  Finally, I turned to Chip. I wanted to hug him, but I didn’t want to be too forward, so I shook his hand instead. “It was so nice to meet you.”

  “You too,” he said.

  Tyler shook his hand as well. “Maybe I’ll see you at practice next week.”

  “I’d really like that.” He looked worried for a second. “Should I still call you Coach?”

  Tyler laughed a little. “Uh, no. You can call me Tyler.”

  Chip grinned. “Sounds good.”

  The kids both went up to their rooms, and Robin saw us to the door.

  “I’m sorry if this was unnecessarily traumatic,” I said.

  “No, no. It’s okay. I think deep down Chip always wondered about both his birth parents.” She laughed and shrugged. “He’s sort of getting a twofer here.”

  I laughed too, placing my hand on her arm. “Thank you for everything—inviting us into your home, being so gracious, and . . . having the wherewithal to make something beautiful out of something awkward and difficult.”

  She exhaled. “You know, I wanted children more than anything. I tried so hard to get pregnant and stay pregnant, and it just never took. I had miscarriage after miscarriage. So when we turned to adoption and even that seemed to be taking forever, I made sort of a bargain with God.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes. I promised that if He would send us a child that needed us as much as we needed him or her, that I would let love and compassion be my guide for the rest of my life. The very next day the agency contacted me, and said you’d chosen us to adopt your baby.”

  A lump formed in my throat and tears filled my eyes. Impulsively, I threw my arms around her. “It was meant to be.”

  She hugged me back, then hugged Tyler. “It was meant to be. It was all meant to be.”

  Much later that night, Tyler was waiting for me in my bed. It was so late, he’d already fallen asleep, and I undressed in the dark, kicking off my heels, peeling off my dress, tiptoeing into the bathroom to take off my makeup and brush my teeth.

  He woke up when I slipped beneath the covers, immediately reaching for me. “Come here, you. How was the wedding?”

  “Good. Long.” I snuggled up against his warm, strong body. “How was your night?”

  “Fine. I went and saw three houses.”

  “Did you like any of them?”

  “They were all nice, but I definitely had a favorite. Maybe you can come see it with me this week. It’s not right on the water, but it’s close. You can see it through the windows.”

  “I’d love that.” I kissed his chest. “So are you okay? We’ve hardly had a chance to talk about how things went today.”

  “Yes. I feel good actually.”

  “I do too.” I wrapped my arm around him and squeezed him tightly. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For changing your mind. For coming back. For being there with me today.”

  “Well, how else was I going to win you back? Clearly my biceps were no longer enough. I had to get a little more dramatic.”

  I giggled. “It worked.”

  He kissed my head. “I’ll never stop trying to win you, April. I promise.”

  Every part of me hummed with warmth—I felt so lucky. “He’s so much like you. Isn’t he?”

  “In some ways, maybe. But much smarter. With a much bigger heart.”

  “You’ve got a big heart. You just never showed it.”

  He rolled on top of me, settling his hips between my thighs. “What a difference red hair and dimples can make.”

  Laughing, I wrapped my legs around him. “Everything’s gonna be okay, right?”

  “It’s going to be more than okay,” he said, brushing my cheekbones with his thumbs. “You know, I never imagined I could fall in love with anything the way I fell in love with baseball. But now . . . ”

  “Now?” I asked hopefully, my heart pounding.

  He pressed his lips to mine, and his kiss tasted like forever. “Now there’s you.”

  A week later, I crossed the band platform at my father’s retirement party, hoping my voice wouldn’t sound as shaky as
my legs felt. Carrying a glass of sparkling wine in one hand, I moved to the vocalist’s microphone stand and switched the mic on. “Excuse me everyone. Could I please have your attention?”

  It took a minute for the roughly two-hundred-fifty people in the room to quiet down, during which I scanned the crowd for familiar, supportive faces.

  They were all here—my parents, seated next to one another, their joined hands resting on the table. Sylvia and Henry. Meg and Noah. Chloe and Oliver. Frannie, Mack, and the three girls, who giggled along with Sylvia’s two kids and Cecily Carswell over their plastic flutes of sparkling juice. It turned out that Cecily went to the same middle school as Sylvia’s daughter Whitney and Mack’s oldest, Millie. I’d asked Whitney if she could make sure Cecily was included since she might not know anyone else, and she’d said of course. I’d never felt more grateful for my family, who always stepped up when I needed them.

  Robin Carswell, her mother, and Chip were seated with Tyler, Sadie, and Josh, who’d also been added to the guest list at my mother’s insistence. She’d hand-delivered the invitation herself, and insisted they attend. “You’re family now,” she told them all. “You have to come.”

  When the room was nearly silent, I locked eyes with Tyler one more time. He was so gorgeous in his suit and tie, he took my breath away. His smile reassured me—I could do this.

  “Good evening, everyone. For those of you wondering which Sawyer sister I am, I’m April—the second one.”

  Polite laughter echoed through the room.

  “On behalf of my parents, my older sister Sylvia, and my younger sisters, Meg, Chloe, and Frannie, I want to welcome you and thank you for being here tonight to celebrate my father’s retirement, as well as the fortieth anniversary of Cloverleigh Farms. It means so much to all of us.” I paused for a breath, and saw my mom wiping her eyes. “As many of you know, my father was somewhat reluctant to retire.”

  More laughter from the crowd, and I laughed too.

  “But who could blame him? I might be biased, but I truly believe Cloverleigh Farms is the most beautiful place in the world. Like all of us Sawyer sisters, it has grown in so many ways over the years. It’s had its share of tough seasons—winter blizzards and bitter-cold frosts, too-wet springs and too-dry summers—but we have also seen hundreds of couples get married in the orchard, we’ve seen graduation parties and four-generation family reunions on our lawn, and we’ve even had a baby born at the inn, although it was not planned and my dad always said that’s the night his hair turned white.”

  A murmur of amusement rippled through the room, and I paused a moment.

  “But that’s what Cloverleigh Farms has always been about—family. Milestones. Growth. Love. Celebration. Memories. And you’re all a part of that.” I took another breath. “My parents have taught us that this is a place where family means more than just DNA. It means opening our doors and our hearts to strangers. It means showing up for our neighbors. It means reaching out when you know someone needs it. It means forgiveness, acceptance, compassion, joy . . .” I locked eyes with Tyler again. “And it’s that feeling you get when you know you’re home.”

  “Hear, hear!” my father yelled, lifting his glass to me.

  I smiled at him. “Dad, Mom, you’ve spent four decades making this place into something extraordinary, and tonight we honor your hard work and sacrifice, as well as your dedication to each other and to all of us.” I raised my glass and looked out at the room. “So please join me in a toast to John and Daphne Sawyer, in wishing happy birthday to Cloverleigh Farms, and in celebrating all the life and love yet to blossom for us all. Cheers!”

  “Cheers!” shouted the crowd.

  I took a sip of my wine, made from grapes grown on the hillside right outside, and tasted in its sweetness all the beauty of the past and the promise of the future. Then I made my way to the side of the stage, where Tyler was waiting to help me down, his expression full of pride and affection.

  I took his hand and stepped down into his embrace.

  Life was good.

  Epilogue

  “Your car broke down? Are you serious?” I checked the clock on my nightstand. It was barely seven a.m.

  “Sorry, babe. I think it’s the battery. Must be shoddy.”

  “The battery? Tyler, you drive a ridiculously expensive SUV. It has four-zone climate control. But the battery is shoddy?”

  “Must be. Mind coming to rescue me? You’ve got jumper cables in your car.”

  I put a hand on my forehead. “I do?”

  “Yes. I put them in there.”

  “When?”

  “I don’t remember exactly. But they’re in there.”

  “Okay, I’m coming.” I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the mattress. “But it will be a little bit. I’m still in bed.”

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s my birthday, after all,” I grumped. “And a Saturday.”

  “I know, I know. This is such bad timing.”

  “I didn’t know you were going for a run this morning. I thought we were going to go get breakfast together.” I walked toward the huge master bathroom Tyler and I shared.

  “Yeah, I wasn’t planning on it, but I had trouble sleeping last night. I thought the workout would relax me.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.” Immediately, I felt bad. “I didn’t know you’d had a tough night. It’s been a while.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you at the high school?”

  “Yes.”

  “I have to get dressed, but I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.”

  “Thanks, babe. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  After I got out of the bathroom, I quickly threw on sweatpants and a hoodie and shoved my feet into sneakers. I felt guilty about the way I’d whined on the phone. After all, it wasn’t Tyler’s fault his car broke down. And last month, when I’d gotten a flat tire on my way home from work, he’d jumped in the car and driven at warp speed to reach me. Then he’d changed my tire, drove behind me the entire way home, and gave me his SUV to go to work the following day while he got my car in for service.

  But that wasn’t unusual. For a guy who’d originally claimed he “wasn’t good at that stuff,” Tyler was beyond chivalrous—always opening doors for me, pulling out my chair at restaurants, never even letting me look at a bill let alone pay one. Some people might have found all that too old-fashioned, but not me. Because it didn’t come along with any outdated bullshit about women being inferior to men. Sure, he loved it when I cooked dinner for him, but he liked cooking for me too.

  And if I had to put up with the occasional ego trip or how loud he got while watching sports (especially if Mack or Noah was over, my God) or his leaving the cap off the toothpaste again, it was a small price to pay for how happy he made me. I grabbed my phone off the dresser in our bedroom—our bedroom, that was just bananas—and hurried down the stairs.

  The view from our huge picture windows never failed to leave me breathless and shaking my head with wonder. It wasn’t directly on the bay, but it was close enough that we could see it from our perch in the trees. It had everything else that Tyler had wanted—privacy, luxury, plenty of space, and it was close enough to Cloverleigh that it was convenient for me to stay over.

  He’d asked me to move in almost immediately. I was still trying not to rush things, but damn, he made it difficult. I’d never forget the July night he brought a blanket out onto the deck and we lay on it looking up at the stars.

  “Remind you of anything?” he’d asked, rolling onto his side and propping his head on his hand.

  “Of course it does.” I looked at him and grinned. “Do you remember your line?”

  “I’ve got a better one.” He reached out and slipped his hand into my hair, but this time, instead of come here, what he said was, “I love you. And I never want you to leave. Stay with me.”

  I’d moved in the following day.

  I
hurried through the kitchen and out to the garage, where I jumped into my car and hit the button on the remote to open the door. I was about to back out when I heard my phone ping with a text.

  Tyler: I’m not at the track. Meet me at the ballfield.

  Me: Okay!

  Smiling, I put my car in reverse. Lately, Tyler had been throwing again. Not in public—he wouldn’t even let me watch him—so he always had to go super early in the morning or very late at night and just pitch balls at the backstop, but it felt like progress to me. Whenever I asked how it had gone, he’d have a different answer.

  “Fucking great,” he’d say one day, the old grin on his face.

  “Don’t ask,” he’d say the next.

  I’d give him a kiss either way and tell him I was proud.

  I left our gated neighborhood and drove over to the high school. Tyler’s was the only car in the lot—not surprising, since it was barely seven a.m. on a Saturday morning. I was about to get out of the car when my phone pinged again.

  Chip: Happy birthday!

  I smiled, deciding to take a minute and text him back. I knew Tyler would understand.

  Me: Thanks! How’s everything going? Why are you up so early???

  Chip: Haha good. I’m about to go work out.

  Me: How’d the econ test go?

  Chip: Don’t ask.

  I grinned.

  Me: How about the essay for Freshman Comp?

  Chip: A

  Me: That’s awesome. Have a good weekend!

  Chip: You too. Say hi to Tyler for me. Can’t believe his battery is dead.

  Me: OMG I know. Thanks for the birthday text!

  As I got out of the car, it struck me as a little odd that he knew about the dead battery already. Had Tyler texted him too? It was possible, since they were in touch all the time, and we couldn’t wait to see him when he came home for Thanksgiving next month. We were also looking forward to going down to Clemson for some baseball games next spring.

  For the millionth time, I marveled at how our plan to handle the media where Chip was concerned had worked. Tyler had been right—getting out ahead was key. And Robin’s idea to make it a positive story about adoption had been brilliant. For the first time in my life, this thing that I’d kept in the dark was thrust into the spotlight, but it felt good. Social media had jumped on the positivity of it, and we’d been astonished with all the incredible feedback. Tons of people had reached out to us, coming forward with their own stories, saying we’d given them the courage to decide on adoption, or reach out to a birth parent, or stop seeing their own adoption as a rejection and start seeing it as a decision made from love. Even Bethany Bloomstar reached out with an apology and an offer to make things right with a more positive story.