My sister has called me no less than twelve times in the last few days.
I still have five more games to go before I get back on the field, so the extreme amount of training I’ve been doing to be game ready isn’t just an excuse to avoid her calls. Not that I need an excuse. I avoid everyone’s calls.
But something prompts me to answer this one.
“Hello,” I answer gruffly.
“I thought you were all happy and in love and might actually answer my calls for once,” Everleigh says.
“Where’d you get that idea?”
“Ford.”
“Ah,” I say. “Yeah, well, I ended that. Why won’t you stop calling me?”
“Are you coming to the wedding or not?”
“When is it?” I ask.
“Didn’t you get the invitation?”
I blow out a breath and look at the huge pile of mail sitting on my counter. “I’ll be honest, Ev, I haven’t gone through my mail since I got back.”
“Haven’t you been home, like, a week already?” she asks.
“Can you just answer my question?”
“It’s three weeks from today. Saturday, May twenty-ninth. Right after OTAs for Mav, and you’ll be in Chicago playing the White Sox, which is specifically why I picked that weekend. So you can be there. You have an early game, and we have a sunset wedding.”
“I need to check the schedule and be sure I’m clear to attend.” The truth is that I don’t need to clear it with anyone. Once a game is over, barring any media obligations, generally we’re free to do what we want for the night. I just need to show up on time for Sunday’s game. But this gives me a reason to say no.
“Then clear it. I’d like you to be there.”
I blow out a breath. Am I supposed to say something about what an honor that is? Because honestly, the last wedding I went to with my siblings was the one I tried to stop when my brother married my ex.
“Will the reno be done in time?” I ask. I know she wanted to get married at the Bradley Mansion in Chicago, which now belongs to Ford and Tatum. Tatum had big ideas to gut and renovate the place to turn it into a wedding venue.
“Tate planned the reno around our wedding. She did phase one with my blessing and input, and that will be ready to go in time,” Everleigh says.
“What’s phase one?”
“Removing a few walls, but only ones that aren’t load-bearing, redoing the floors, painting. Cosmetic stuff like new light fixtures,” she says. “She has plans for phases two and three, but those will come after our wedding. They’re waiting on permitting to get that rolling, and evenwith Madden’s connections, permitting takes eighty-four years.”
“Literally?”
“No.”
I chuckle.
“No, the full reno will take closer to a year. But the good news is that she hasn’t touched the bedrooms, so you can all stay at the mansion in your old bedrooms if you want.”
“That’s a hard no from this camp. But let me check the schedule to see if I can make it.” I’m ready to hang up when she asks another question.
“So who was the girl, and what happened?”
“This is why I don’t answer my phone,” I mutter.
“You know I’m here for anything, Arch,” she says softly.
