“So. Back to Kai. How did you two know each other?”
Damn it, my reprieve didn’t last long. And the way she asks that question may sound casual, but I know my mother. She’s digging. Thinking quickly, I decide on avoidance as my best tactic. I stand up and give her what I hope is a convincing smile. “Oh, we were in the same dorm one year. That’s all. I’m going to check out that snack table. You said Willow’s here? I’ll say hi,” I say, standing up.
She nods, but I don’t like the smirk she’s fighting back. Damn it, she suspects there’s more to my story. Well, too bad, Mom. I love her, but the last thing I need is for her to think she can usemy past with Kai as more ammunition in her fight to get me to stay in Vancouver.
I know she misses me, and I miss her. And Vancouver’s great. But Italy is where I can reach my dreams.
I take my time at the snack table and eventually find Willow. She’s wearing a sparkler of a ring on her finger and is way too freaking gorgeous in one of those classic, elegant ways. It would be intimidating if she wasn’t also smiling and laughing and giving off genuine good-people vibes.
Her gaze lands on me, and if anything, her smile grows. “Isabelle! I’m so glad you’re here.” She excuses herself from the guy she was speaking to, moves my way, and takes my elbow, tugging me to the side. “Thank God, you have the best timing. If I had to spend another second schmoozing, I was going to lose my mind.”
I can’t help but laugh. “You didn’t look like you were close to insanity. Your game face is impressive.”
She winks. “You should see me play poker.” She takes a long sip of her drink. “Anyway. We should get together while you’re in town. Stirling is such a mysterious guy. None of us knew he was getting married until he showed up after vacation and told us! I had to give him my usual media relations lecture about letting your staff know these things in advance.” She laughs. “But he’s obviously wildly in love with your mom. They’re adorable.”
I chuckle again, sipping my own drink. “Trust me, I was just as surprised. Never expected Mom to settle down, but they’re good together.”
“You’ve been living out of the country for a while?”
I nod. “Yeah, I’ve been living in northern Italy for eight years. That’s where my dad’s from.”
“Italy! That’s so cool, total dream destination for me. Okay, now we have to get together. Here, enter your number.” Shehands me her phone, unlocked, and I enter in my temporary Canadian number.
“Great. Okay, I need to get back to work.” She sighs.
“More schmoozing?”
“No, thank God. I’m done up here. Need to go check in with my staff. But I’ll text you soon.”
We wave goodbye, and then she’s gone. Wandering back to where my mom is sitting, chatting with someone else, I take a seat and watch the game. Kai is still on the mound. He looks so calm, like nothing else matters, and no one else is around him. It’s just him and the ball. I watch him nod at his catcher before stepping back, his head falling down. His thumb and forefinger lift and run along the brim of his cap. It’s a habit I’ve watched him do hundreds of times. Ever since the first game I watched, back when we were friends — before we even started dating.
I’m instantly ripped back in time, to a different stadium, under sunny Florida skies. When the only two Canadians on campus had just started hanging out, and I had stolen the hat off his head before writing my initials on the inside brim.
“There. Now it’s your lucky charm. You need the Canadian vibes to help you pitch your best.”
At his next game, he ran his fingers along my initials at the start of the inning, grinning at me the entire time. Then he went and threw a perfect inning, striking out three players, one after another.
His team won that game. And Kai made me put my initials on every single hat and helmet he had.
Surely he doesn’t still…
No. It must just be an unconscious tic. An automatic movement.
“He does that every inning.” Mom’s voice interrupts my trip down an emotional memory lane. “Tony said it was sofrustrating at first because the coaching staff thought it was a signal.”
I swallow the lump in my throat at Mom’s confirmation that he still does it each time he’s at bat. “Yeah? Did he say why Kai does it?”
“No, I don’t think he knows why, but Kai refuses to stop. So they’ve learned to ignore it.”
The umpire calls a third strike, and the crowd erupts in a chant of his nickname.
My initials are still his lucky charm. And I don’t know how to feel about that.
Chapter six
Isabelle
I’m still obsessing over whether or not Kai still writes my initials on the inside of all his hats the next day as I push myself through lap after lap at the pool. Somehow, I got lucky and Mom didn’t ask any more questions about my past connection with him. The Tridents won the game, we went out with Tony for a celebratory dinner later, and I made my excuses as soon as we got home, disappearing into my room.
