“Daddy’s back doesn’t hurt anymore?” Ava asked. That was the reason they’d given for him sleeping in the guest room.
Thea dodged the question. “You’re up early,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to Amelia’s cheek. “Why don’t you go back to sleep for a while?”
The girls both closed their eyes. Thea rolled onto her side to spoon Amelia, and Gavin did the same with Ava. Above their daughters’ bodies, they locked eyes, and what she saw in Gavin’s made her throat thicken and her heart race.
The world turned on its axis again.
* * *
• • •
At ten o’clock that morning, Thea was cleaning up the kitchen when she got a text from Liv, who hadn’t come home last night.
She was staying at Alexis’s house for a few days and wouldn’t be able to watch the girls tonight.
Even just a few days ago, Thea would have immediately called her and tried to smooth things over. Not today. Not this time. Liv was behaving like a spoiled child.
Gavin hugged her from behind, a cup of coffee in one hand. “Liv?” he asked.
“She’s not going to watch the girls tonight.”
“She’ll get over it. We’ll figure something out for tonight.”
Thea turned in his arms, rose on tiptoe, and kissed him. Gavin made a noise low in his throat, set down his coffee, and hauled her tightly in his arms.
“We’ll figure out something for tonight,” he rasped. “If I have to spend twenty grand to fly my parents here, we will stay in that hotel.”
She lifted her mouth to kiss him again, but he held back with a wicked grin. “You know that thing I did with my hand this morning?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
“Next time I’m going to use my mouth.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
They didn’t have to spend twenty grand to fly his parents down.
Del and Nessa offered to let the twins stay at their house with Jo-Jo and a babysitter and then spend the night there. They’d apparently decided not to stay in the hotel because Nessa was still battling morning sickness.
“How long do we have to stay?” Thea asked as they pulled into the parking ramp of the ballpark, where the party was held. She tugged her pashmina around her shoulders.
“If you want to head straight to the hotel, I’m sure I can be persuaded,” Gavin said.
They’d been doing that all day. By unspoken agreement, the hotel had been the catch-all for what was actually going to happen there. As if saying the words out loud would jinx it all, like the superstition that you couldn’t say the words “no-hitter” when it became clear that a pitcher was headed for one.
Tonight, they would have sex again.
The question was: Would Thea be able to orgasm? And what would happen if she didn’t?
“I suppose we should make an appearance,” Thea joked.
Translation: I’m so nervous that I won’t even jump on the chance to avoid another run-in with my best friend, Rachel.
“We should probably stay through the awards,” Gavin said. Translation: I’m nervous too.
“So leave after that?” Translation: So, I have two hours to get over my nerves?
Gavin killed the engine and looked at her in the dark. “Deal,” he said. Translation: I have two hours to get over my nerves.
Gavin gripped her hand as they exited the elevator on the top floor of the administrative wing of the ballpark, where every year the facility and banquet staffs transformed the soaring, spacious lobby into a Christmas ballroom. Gavin led her through a maze of tall cocktail tables to where Del and Nessa waited for them. Most of the players they passed waved or fist-bumped Gavin as they walked by, but their wives and girlfriends couldn’t have been more obvious in their dismissal of Thea. Their eyes shifted away from hers, their smiles brittle. Which wasn’t all that unusual, but tonight it seemed more pronounced.
She found out why as soon as she and Nessa sat down while the men went to grab drinks.
“Rachel and Jake had a massive fight,” Nessa said, looking like a runway model in her floor-length, beaded gold gown. “I don’t know if it’s true or not, but he apparently told her tonight he wants to stay in a hotel for a while.”
Thea felt a surprising flash of empathy for Rachel. “Are they here tonight?”
“Yeah, but it’s pretty clear something is going on.”
“She blames me, doesn’t she?” Thea said, finally catching up. “My bad mojo at Thanksgiving?”
Nessa winced. “I did hear something like that.”
Great.
When the men returned with drinks, Nessa and Thea dropped the conversation. Del held his beer up in Gavin’s direction. “To beautiful wives.”
“I will definitely drink to that.” Gavin leaned forward and clinked his bottle against Del’s before taking a drink.
Then he bent close to Thea’s ear. “To the most beautiful wife in the room,” he whispered, lightly tapping his bottle against her glass. He kissed her before letting her drink.
“I’m feeling a little ignored over here,” Del joked. “What about you, Ness?”
Thea looked up. Nessa’s smile was sentimental, Del’s naughty. Gavin swiped his lips across her temple. This was going to be a long night.
Other tables began to fill up with couples over the next half hour, but theirs remained conspicuously empty. Even Yan and his wife, Soledad, chose to sit on the other side of the room, which stung. How could people be so superstitious? Did they really think she had anything to do with Jake and Rachel possibly breaking up? Thea drank her champagne quickly and let Gavin get her another.
A few minutes before dinner, two of the coaches and their wives finally took mercy on them and asked if the seats were taken. Apparently, the superstition didn’t extend to the coaching staff.
By the time dinner was over and the awards ceremony started, Thea had consumed three glasses of champagne and realized with a quiet giggle that at least she was no longer stressing about having an orgasm later.
The awards were for a combination of serious accomplishments and silly traditions. Most Epic Playoff Beard. Worst Bull Pen Dance. Del jokingly refused to accept the award for Worst Dugout Tantrum for a botched attempt to steal second early in the season. But each award took them closer to the inevitable moment when Gavin’s grand slam would be recognized, and with every minute, she tensed in anticipation.
If they didn’t make a big deal out of it, she’d be fine. But there was no way they’d rush through that one. It was the biggest play of the year. They’d probably show a video of the entire thing, which would be the first time she’d watched it since the night it happened. She hadn’t allowed herself to watch any replays because the memories were too raw. The night of his greatest career accomplishment had been the night of her greatest humiliation and hurt. The fact that both could exist in the same space and time was a cruel twist of fate, and she would have to relive it in front of all these people.
If Gavin shared her anxiety, he didn’t let on. He kept a hand on her or an arm around her at all times, glancing at her every few minutes with that dizzying smile or a wink.
“This next one is a no-brainer,” the marketing guy finally said. “Best Long Ball goes to . . .”
The room erupted in an almost choreographed chant of grand slam, grand slam, grand slam. A now-iconic photo of Gavin leaping into his teammates’ arms at home plate appeared on the giant screen. The room erupted in applause. The video switched to slow motion as he rounded third base toward home. Midway down the stretch, he whipped his batting helmet in the air, an exuberant action that spawned a thousand Has Gavin Scott’s helmet landed yet? tweets the next day. His waiting teammates hauled him into a throbbing, leaping, screaming huddle. They jostled him. Hugged him. Knocked him to the ground and hauled him back up. Ripped the jersey clear from his body, revealing a black performance unders
hirt that clung to every ripple of muscle in his stomach, chest, and shoulders. That photo sparked a thousand I want to have Gavin Scott’s baby tweets.
Gavin strode to the stage to accept the unofficial award amid back-pounding hugs and bursts of laughter. When he returned to the table, he bent and kissed her loudly but didn’t sit. The marketing guy said it was time for the last one, a new award that the guys themselves decided was long overdue.
“Legends, please stand.”
Every player and coach stood. Thea glanced at Nessa, who shrugged as if she were as confused as Thea.
“We all know that the real heroes of this team are the partners at home who somehow put up with us,” the guy said into the mic.
Thea’s heart stopped. What was this?
“You stand by us through the wins and losses. Through the stress of contract talks and trade deadlines. You make this crazy dream of ours possible, and we don’t do enough to let you know how much we appreciate it.”
Thea swallowed hard. Her heart thudded against her rib cage.
“Legends,” the man said. “Show your appreciation.”
Catcalls and wolf whistles followed. All around them, players and coaches pulled their wives and girlfriends to their feet and into their arms for surprise, passionate kisses. A flash of uncertainty crossed Gavin’s face as he held out his hand. Thea folded her fingers in his and stood on unsteady heels.
“This is why I wanted you to come tonight,” he said quietly, sliding his arm around her waist to draw her close.
Thea tilted her face up to his, and what followed was the kind of movie-quality, time-stood-still moment when the rest of the room faded away and there was nothing but Gavin’s eyes and smile and hands. God, his hands. Big and calloused from years of hard work. His fingers on her back trailed a lazy path up and down her exposed skin. A shiver raced through her, the hot kind.
His fingers wrapped loosely around the back of her neck as he bent his head. His lips hovered above hers as if he wanted to give her a chance to back away because his body language told her this wasn’t going to be like all the other kisses he’d dropped on her tonight. Those had been the warm-up. The batting practice to the big show. This kiss was going to be the real deal.
He teased her with a nip at her bottom lip that sent tremors through her entire body.
“Gavin,” she whispered, pleaded, letting the champagne make all the decisions.
With a smile, her husband slanted his mouth fully over hers. Finally. Completely.
A floaty feeling took over, dizzy and light, but it wasn’t the champagne. It was him. The scent of him, the taste of him, the strength of his lips. It was the way he pulled back only so he could plunge deeper, again and again and again. It was the heady excitement of kissing in a room full of people who had ceased to exist within their private cocoon. It was the tender yet possessive way he cradled her head with his fingers. Thea cupped his softly bearded cheeks and pulled her lips away. Their rapid, ragged breaths mingled and blended into a single pant and then a shared puff of surprised laughter. Sounds came back slowly to her. The clink of glasses. The murmur of couples whose embraces had already ended. The click of high heels on the tiled floor. The romantic strains of a slow song by the band.
Gavin nudged her face up to look in her eyes. “I d-don’t know about you, but I’m ready to get out of here.”
Game time. Thea nodded. “Let me run to the bathroom first.”
Thea grabbed her clutch purse from the floor and gave him a grateful smile when he gripped her elbow to help her stand again.
“Be right back,” she said.
The bathroom was down a long hallway and around the corner. As she left the ballroom, the sound of the band faded until all she could hear was the rapid beat of her own heart.
Which didn’t, however, drown out the voices around the corner.
She stopped and held in a groan. Rachel and her coven were apparently sitting in the waiting area between the offices and the bathrooms. Which left Thea with two options: go down one floor to use another bathroom, or walk past them with a wave and otherwise ignore them. Dammit! She didn’t want to take the time to go all the way to another floor. And what the hell? Why should she have to? Just because Rachel had managed to turn most of the other women against her didn’t mean she had any less right to be there. She and Gavin were still married.
With a deep breath for courage, Thea took a step around the corner.
But Rachel’s next words brought her once again to a halt.
“I can’t believe they had the balls to show up tonight,” Rachel said, her words slurred just enough to reflect the steady flow of alcohol she’d consumed.
“It’s so selfish,” said Mia Lewis, fiancée of outfielder Kevin Krieg. “I’m sorry, but they are officially bad luck.”
Thea’s stomach twisted into a painful cramp. There could be no doubt that they were talking about her and Gavin.
Rachel snorted. “Did you see them kissing?”
“I thought it was sweet,” said another voice. Maybe Mary Phillips? The wife of Brad Phillips, the backup catcher, had always been nice to her. What was she doing with them?
“It was gross,” Rachel sneered. “Like, God. Get a fucking room.”
“Everyone else was kissing,” Mary said.
“Yeah, but it’s them,” Rachel said. “I bet they were both virgins when they met.”
“That is so mean,” Mia said, laughing.
“Can you imagine being married to him?” Rachel asked.
Thea’s hand curled into a fist against her stomach.
“Have you ever tried to have a conversation with him? I bet he even stutters in bed.”
Rage. Hot and red. It flushed Thea’s skin and dimmed her eyesight. A vision flashed through her mind of launching herself at Rachel, knocking her to the ground, and pummeling her in the face. Instead, she stomped around the corner and revealed herself. “How dare you!”
The three women whipped their heads around and had the decency to at least momentarily look guilty for being caught.
Thea surged forward. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
Mary blanched and stepped forward. “Thea, we didn’t— We weren’t talking about you guys.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “I don’t think she’s going to buy that.”
Fury rolled through her like a thunderstorm. “You can say whatever the hell you want about me. But do not ever disrespect my husband. Gavin has more dignity, integrity, and guts than every man on this team combined, and more than the three of you could ever dream of.”
Mary swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. I’m . . . I’m going to go back to the party.” She raced past Thea with cheeks blazing.
Rachel rolled her eyes. “Look, if you expect me to apologize, you’re going to be waiting a long time.”
“I don’t expect it, and frankly I don’t care. But if I ever hear you disparage my husband again—”
“You’ll what?” Rachel stood, taking advantage of every inch of her tall, lithe form. “You’ll be mad? You’ll go tell your husband? This isn’t high school, sweetie.”
Thea barked out a laugh. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. Rachel wobbled drunkenly on her heels again. “How much have you had to drink, Rachel?”
“None of your fucking business.”
As she said it, though, she wobbled again and nearly wiped out. Thea gripped Rachel’s arm and steadied her. Rachel yanked her arm away. “Don’t touch me.”
Thea wouldn’t be surprised if she pretended to spray herself to kill the cooties.
Mia grabbed Rachel’s arm. “Let’s just go.”
Rachel yanked away. “No. Why shouldn’t she know the truth?”
Mia’s eyes darted sideways to a spot behind Thea. “Rachel, come on.”
“Know the truth about what?” Thea sna
pped. “That you blame me for your own problems?”
Rachel lurched forward. “Jake and I would be fine if we’d made it to the World Series! And the only reason we didn’t is because your husband choked in that last game!”
“Okay, what you’re doing right now is called projection, and it’s sad.”
“I had plans!” she shrieked. “You think I want to live in this hillbilly city forever? Your husband stole the ring right off Jake’s finger and all the endorsement deals that should have come with it!”
Thea sputtered like a rusty tractor engine after a long winter in the barn. But when she finally got into gear, her rage propelled her forward with a kick. “My husband? Let’s talk about your husband and that two-run homer he allowed in the third inning! Or how about that double that gave the Cubs the lead?”
Rachel reared back, looking surprised. “Well if your husband had done anything at the plate in game seven—”
“There wouldn’t even have been a game seven if not for what my husband did in game six!”
It was exactly the opening Rachel had been waiting for. Her lips pursed, and one perfect eyebrow arched in derision. “And if you were any kind of baseball wife, you would’ve been at game seven.”
“What the hell is going on?” The booming voice of her husband brought Thea around in a whirl. Gavin stood a few feet away, face stormy.
Rachel snorted out a laugh. “Aw, here he is. The big strong man to the rescue.”
Except the big, strong man wasn’t alone. Rachel’s husband, or maybe soon-to-be ex-husband, rounded the corner with what appeared to be half the team behind him. That same flash of empathy rose again, and Thea considered for a moment just walking away.
But that’s what she used to do.
She was done walking away from the fight.
Thea stepped closer to Rachel, so close the woman had to take a wavering step back. “You want to know what kind of baseball wife I am? I’m the kind of baseball wife who had to give birth alone because her husband was gone. I’m the kind of baseball wife who had to spend twenty-four hours in the emergency room with twins by herself because they had a stomach flu during the season. I’m the kind of baseball wife who still isn’t sure the difference between a no-hitter and a perfect game, and you know what? It doesn’t matter. Because I didn’t marry baseball. I married Gavin, a man with more integrity than you could ever dream of having.”
The Bromance Book Club Page 23
