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I shrugged. It wasn’t a big deal. “Barring an emergency, unless I specifically tell him I really need him, from February until November, baseball trumps all.”
Chris ran a hand down his face, and the backward hat on his head shifted slightly.
I sagged, suddenly feeling weighed down. “Sorry.”
He pulled his hat off his head, then repositioned it. “No. Don’t be sorry. He’snotgoing to cause stress for us.” Looping his arm around me, he tucked me into his side and brought his lips to the crown of my head. “I promise.”
Maybe not forus, but keeping our relationship a secret was eating at Chris.
“We rescheduled for breakfast on Sunday. I made it clear that he can’t cancel, so he understands that it’s important.”
His chin bumped the top of my head as he nodded. “So now that we have an unexpectedly free afternoon, what do you want to do?”
“Its March in Boston, besides depression, which shuts down half the city, there isn’t much else going on.” I stepped out of his arms and turned back to my office. “Let me get my stuff and we can figure something out.”
Walking beside me, Chris pulled out his phone. He opened the door to the cool spring afternoon, but his focus was still set on his device. Once we’d collected my things from my office, we headed out through the zoo’s exit and onto the streets of Boston.
“Since we still have the reservation at O’Hannigan’s, want to just eat there? We can hop on the green T line. It’s two stops from here.”
“Sure.” Chris nodded, his thumbs flying over his phone screen.
He pocketed it just as we hit the bottom step and swiped his card for both of us. It wasn’t until we were on the train that he took the phone back out, and then he was tapping away once again.
“Is there another name for it?” he asked, scrolling. He let out a huff, then typed something else.
“For what?”
He glanced up at me. “This depression festival or event or whatever. I can’t find any info on it.”
I frowned, lost. It took me a solid ten seconds to process his words, and then I had to bite back a chuckle. He was so damn cute. “Are you really googling depression festival?”
He sat a little straighter beside me and blinked slowly. “You don’t want to go?”
This time there was no stopping the laugh that bubbled out of me. “I was making a joke. March in Boston is cold and dreary andboring. That’s what I meant by depression. Everyone has winter sadness.”
“Oh.” His brow furrowed, like he was still trying to figure out what the hell I was going on about.
I clapped a hand over my mouth to stifle another laugh. “Sorry, I can’t help but wonder what a depression festival would look like.”
“Shut up, Blondie.” He tilted closer and tickled my side.
Rather than jerking away, I jumped toward him.
He bowed his head and kissed me quickly before pulling away. “We probably shouldn’t do that in public yet.”
He was right. Even with a ball cap pulled low, people recognized him. That only made me more eager to break the news to my dad.
“Dragon.”
At the sound of my name, I clicked out of the message thread between Avery and me and pocketed my phone. When I spun around, I found three reporters descending on my locker. I’d had an average game. Nothing like last week’s complete game, with a few fastballs clocking in at 105 miles per hour. I hadn’t hit that mark today.
I’d considered giving Avery a hard time about not being here, like her absence was the cause of my shortcomings. But if I did that, she’d probably decide she couldn’t miss another game. And her job mattered as much as mine did. Tonight, she was attending a donor event at the zoo, which was definitely more important than sitting in the stands watching me.
Still, seeing her in my jersey, cheering for me and the rest of the team, fired me up. Tomorrow’s breakfast with Tom couldn’t come fast enough. I was sick of sneaking around. Unless that sneaking around consisted of sex in a storage closet again. Anytime she was up forthat, so was I.
I smirked.
“Good game today, but how’d ya feel about the fifth?” A guy from ESPN shoved a mike in my face.
