This drama with Aldridge? A silly photoshoot where they debate if I’m too tall to be sympathetic?
Not a priority.
“Kayla, you ready?” she repeats.
“Not yet. Could you grab my mules?” I ask.
“Gladly.” She grins and rushes out of the bathroom while I straighten my jersey.
It doesn’t have Sean’s name on the back, but it has one just as good.
Mine.
I don’t give Aldridge an inch the rest of the photo shoot. Not in his office, not on the field. And I put my foot down, too, about him touching me.
“It’s lovers to rivals, right?” I say when Aldridge tries to grab my waist again at home plate. “If anything, shouldn’t I be trying to strangle him?”
The photographer laughs. “That’s good. Let’s do that.”
“No, that’s absurd,” Aldridge says.
“He’s right,” Ronnie says, and for a moment, disappointment pinches my lungs. “Are you right-handed?”
“Left, actually.”
“Perfect! Let’s have you hold a ball on the mound—ring flashing—and look over your shoulder at the camera with a wicked look. Then we’ll have Aldridge at home plate looking nervous.”
“I love it!” Scottie says next to me.
“I’m not interested in playing for comedy. This is business,” Aldridge says.
“You had no problems taking pictures with your arm around a married woman who broke up with you,” Scottie says. “That’s pretty funny to me.”
“Remind me to give you a raise,” I mutter.
“I’ll add it to your To-Do list,” she says.
And that’s how the rest of the shoot goes.
We finish up in Aldridge’s office minutes before the game starts, and as soon as Ronnie tells us we’re done, I start to walk out with Scottie.
“Kay, I need to talk to you about something,” Aldridge says as the others clear out.
“Okay?”
Scottie stays with me, earning that raise more than ever.
“Alone,” Aldridge says.
“What could you possibly need to say that you can’t say in front of my assistant?” I ask, and it’s a sincere question, not a snarky one. “We don’t have a relationship any longer.”
Hurt flashes across his face, and as much as I hate to admit it, it’s sincere. For all of his faults, he really did love me. Or at least the version of me he molded when we were together.
I exhale a little too loudly. “Scottie, it’s okay. I’ll meet you in the hall in five minutes. You can time me.”
Scottie’s eyes narrow with reluctance, but she steps into the hallway.
Aldridge looks at the open door pointedly. I smile like I have no idea what he’s implying. With a roll of his eyes, he walks around his desk, crosses his enormous office, and shuts the door.
