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“I think that you’re trying to make me feel better,” she admitted.
I walked up until my body brushed her side, then gently took her hand and wrapped mine around hers.
Then, while watching her face in the mirror, I brought her hand down to rest against my erection. “Does that feel like I don’t find you beautiful?”
Her mouth opened, and tears filled her eyes. “George…”
“Don’t say that I don’t find you attractive. If there is one thing that’s not fucked up about us, it’s that. You’re beautiful, and not a day will go by that I don’t find every single inch of you captivating.”Chapter 13I don’t give a sip.
-Coffee Cup
George
“This isn’t a good idea.” I shook my head. “In fact, this is so far from a good idea, it’s going to backfire. And when it does, I hope you all know that I’m going to cry like a little baby in the middle of the goddamn stadium. Everyone is going to blast that on every single article and magazine in the country, and I’m never going to live it down.”
“Come on,” Sway grinned. “I promise, it’ll work.”
I turned my eyes to the woman.
“How do you know this?” I questioned. “What makes you so sure?”
“George,” Sway paused, stepping forward.
Hancock’s arm fell from around her shoulders, and he sighed. “Darlin’,” Hancock drawled. “Swear to God, this isn’t high school. This is real life. Real world problems. This isn’t going to work like you…”
“Shhhh,” she hissed at her husband. “If I’m wrong about this, I’ll give you that present you’ve been begging me for. You know.” Sway raised her eyebrows suggestively, and I snorted.
Hancock’s grin grew, and I had a feeling that whatever that present was, it was going to be a good one.
“Fine,” he grunted, holding his hands up in surrender. “This is your show. You just tell me where to be.”
Sway winked at her husband, then turned that grin to me.
“Here’s what makes me so sure,” she said, pulling out her phone and scrolling her thumb over the screen. Moments later, she turned it around and showed me what was on the screen, and my heart palpitated.
Why you ask?
Because it was a picture of my Wrigley on the screen.
I don’t know what we were talking about, but Wrigley was standing behind me, and I was having a conversation with Hancock, Gunner, and Rhys.
It’d been at the baseball game last week. The one I’d begged Wrigley to come to with our son so Micah could see his old man win Player of the Year.
Wrigley had come, and I’d been so fucking happy pretending. Acting like my life was normal again, my son and my wife where they were supposed to be—at my side.
Micah was asleep in my arms, and he was drooling all over the uniform that I had to play in less than thirty minutes from then.
I had an arm hooked underneath his butt, holding him steady, while also talking easily with the men around me.
Sway had come around and obviously gotten a picture of the three of us, and Wrigley had stayed behind.
Her eyes were aimed at me, and her eyes were full of love, longing, and pain.
Pain that I felt, too.
“She loves you,” Sway promised. “I’ve looked at this picture quite a few times since the baseball hall of fame banquet, and it’s made me realize that she’s just as far gone for you as you are for her. Trust me. This right here? This doesn’t lie.”
It didn’t lie, no. But it also wasn’t reality. Because, if it were reality, Wrigley would be in my bed every night, and not in a bed all the way across town.
She wouldn’t have kicked me out.
She wouldn’t have done a goddamn thing that had taken her away from me.
And, suddenly, I wasn’t happy seeing that picture anymore. I was pissed. Pissed that she’d felt the same way I had this entire time and hadn’t done a damn thing to fix us.
“What was that look?” Sway asked worriedly. “That wasn’t the look I was hoping for.”
No, I was sure it wasn’t.
“That was the look of a man that’s about to do something either really stupid or something really smart. Either way, this is going to be a fun charity event,” Rhys observed.
“Damn straight.”
Stupid or smart.
It would be determined tomorrow.
“So, Rhys?” I asked. “Your friend available?”
***
Wrigley
I flipped through the channels, stopping on the local news station when a familiar man caught my eye.
My brother.
The douche.
He was covering the baseball event that the Lumberjacks were having tonight at their grand reveal of their new stadium.
Originally, I’d thought that George would ask me to go.
But he hadn’t…I’d waited, but not a word had come from him.
In fact, he’d been quiet when he dropped Micah off early this afternoon since he had to go to his thing tonight.
“And did you see who Furious George Hoffman brought to this event?” Dodger asked, sounding just as creepy as he did in real life.
