“Closet,” Max says, pointing to the first door. “And that door leads to the attached bathroom. There should be extra towels and anything you might need in there. They don’t come often, but my parents are out here occasionally. This is their bedroom when they visit.”
“Oh, okay,” I murmur. Looking up at him, I ask, “Where is your room?”
He jerks his head in the opposite direction. “Down at the end of the other hallway. Don’t worry, Layla. It’s the furthest spot from this room.”
“I wasn’t — I mean,” I stammer. “I was only wondering about the layout of the space. I need to feed the piggies. Do you have any fresh vegetables?”
Max gives me a look that tells me his answer before he speaks. “Have you met me? Why the hell would I have vegetables in my apartment? It’s bad enough you’re forcing me to eat them at work.”
“You’re supposed to follow the meal plan at home, you know.”
“That is up for debate. It isn’t written into my contract, and the deal with Coach was only that you had to watch me eat. That means it only covered meals at the field or on road trips,” Max says confidently, grinning. “What do the pigs eat? I’ll place an order. Tell me what you want as well. I don’t know if they’ll be delivered tonight, but should definitely get here before breakfast time.”
“I’ll go get them,” I say. “It’s easier that way.”
Max sighs. “You don’t have a car here yet, Lay. And getting groceries up from the garage is tedious. The delivery service brings them right to our door.”
“Your door.”
“What?”
I stare at him. “Your door. This is not our apartment. It’s yours.”
Max rolls his eyes. “While you’re staying here, it’s ours.”
I scoff. “This is temporary. I can’t see me being here longer than a week tops.”
“I’m gonna remember you said that, and bring it up when you’re reluctant to move out,” he says with a chuckle. “Once you’ve experienced a sunrise, not having to go to a laundromat, on-site gym, and coffee shop —”
“There’s a coffee shop in the building?” I exclaim. “God, this really is something. Never thought I’d see how the other half live. Well, that’s not accurate. How the top five percent live.”
“I’m not top five. That’s just billionaires up there. I’m just a lowly multi-millionaire,” he says, giving me a dramatic pouting face. Before I can respond, he motions for me to follow him. “Come on. Let’s get the pigs settled and figure out what they can eat. It’s too late for grocery delivery, but I’ll have some delivered first thing in the morning.”
I follow Max into his gorgeous kitchen, and I’m awestruck at how clean and sleek it is. All these top-of-the-line stainless appliances that he probably never uses. “Do you even know how to use your oven?”
He laughs. “Does frozen pizza count?”
I peer over at the controls, then stare at Max. “This is an induction oven. It has every bell and whistle imaginable, and you only use it to heat up pizza?”
Max shrugs. “It came with the place. I didn’t pick it out. I couldn’t care less about appliances. I don’t even know if I’ll still be here after this season anyway.”
I study him, noting how he doesn’t sound angry or sad aboutthat. He sounds … indifferent. Apathetic. “Do you want to be here another year? When is your contract up?”
“It’s up this year. I could see getting traded again. They won’t want to be the bad guys to tell the senior citizen that his time in the majors has run its course.” Now the bitterness seeps through, and I find I’m relieved to hear it. Max doesn’t want to be done with baseball.
“You’ve made it clear you don’t care for Denver very much. If they offer you an extension, will you take it?” I ask uncertainly. My heart rate rises, much to my chagrin. I think I might actuallywanthim to stay, even if nothing can happen between us. Knowing I’ll give away my thoughts if Max looks at my face too long, I begin unloading a grocery sack full of guinea pig items. I may not have fresh veg, but I do have a variety of pellets and treats they can eat until morning.
Max takes a moment before speaking. “I don’t know. If you’d asked me three or four months ago, I’d have said I would accept any and all trade offers to get the hell out of here. But now … I don’t know.”
We lapse into silence as I busy myself with Marilyn and Muriel. My mind is whirling. What’s changed for him? Is it because he’s getting along with the team better, or perhaps it’s due to how well he’s playing right now?
But the tiniest portion of my heart can’t help but wonder: what if it’s me he’d want to stay for?
I thought sleepingin a room next to Layla’s in a hotel was hard, but it’s nothing like knowing she’s in my apartment. We’d said goodnight not too long after she asked if I’d take an extension here. I told her the truth. I really don’t know.
I’m a Cali boy at heart. I know I’m so fucking fortunate to have played almost all of my career in my home state, and it’s why I didn’t sell my properties there, and why I rent here. I naturally assumed I’d end up back in California at some point.
But now things are different.
