“Whatever. So why are you bringing this up?”
I take a deep breath in and out. “I don’t think I’ve ever believed a love like that was possible for me.”
“Why the hell not?”
“I guess it just always seemed so perfect.Tooperfect, you know? Out of reach for most, attainable by just a few. But I never believed I would be one of the lucky ones. I don’t know who does get to have it, or why not me, I just know it’s not me.”
When I finish my confession, I feel raw. Exposed. Then Coral bursts into laughter.
“Luca Calloway, for a very smart man, you are being a big idiot right now. What the hell do you mean, true love isn’t for you? There’s not some finite limit on love, you dummy. If someone doesn’t have it, that does not mean it doesn’t exist.” She heaves a loud sigh. “Look.You’re a great guy. Easy on the eyes, rich, smart, funny, and kind. You’re a catch. But if you ever tell Dom I said that, I’ll murder you. My point is, any woman would be lucky to be with you. But what matters is how you feel. Nothing is going to change unless you pull your head out of your ass and realize that maybe no one else will have a love exactly like your parents. But that’s because no two people are exactly like them, either. Love isn’t a one-size-fits-all thing. So shut your mouth and open your heart. And if there’s a particular woman that’s causing this very depressing self spiral of yours, smarten up and don’t let her get away.”
“Damn, Coral, tell me how you really feel.” I try to sound light, but the truth is, she hit the bullseye.
“I am, Luca. You’re too good of a guy to be alone forever. Don’t deny the women of Cedar Creek a chance to be with you. And don’t deny yourself the chance of finding someone who’s really right for you.”
Our conversation ends when Dom walks back in with fresh mugs of coffee for all of us, but I don’t miss the meaningful look Coral gives me. The one telling me to shut up and listen to her.
The thing is, even if she’s right, it might not matter. Because the one woman who I’m starting to feel could be the one for me is right in front of me. And I might have no choice but to let her get away…for now.
14
ISLA
When I pullup to the warehouse that holds the indoor sports facilities the Little League uses for some of their winter training sessions, Charlie’s quiet. “You don’t have to do this,” I say. The last thing I want to do is give him excuses or make him feel like he can avoid hard things, but at the same time…my mama-bear instincts are clamouring to protect my boy from any embarrassment.
“I know, but Coach Rhett invited me and Miles said it’s fun.” He squares his shoulders, his one hand tightening around the glove he’s spent the past week breaking in. “I wanna try.” Turning to me, his lips quirk up in a wry grin. “You sureyouwanna be here? I’ve got a good reason to suck, what’s your excuse?”
I lightly punch his shoulder as he chuckles. “Watch it, kid, maybe I’m a baseball prodigy just waiting to be discovered.”
Charlie gives me an epic preteen eye roll. “Sure Mom, sure. Watching the game and playing the game are two different things, y’know.”
With that, we get out of the car and hurry into the building to get out of the freezing November rain. Charlie heads over to the group of kids and adults standing around a small set of bleachers behind floor-to-ceiling netting. There’s a lot of energetic talking and laughing, but that’s not what draws my attention.
No, it’s the fact that the adults sitting on the bleachers are predominantly female, while the group holding gloves or carrying equipment are male. I’ve never been a fan of gender stereotypes, but they’re everywhere in sports. Apparently, even here, to my annoyance. Is there really not one female parent willing to throw a ball around with their kid? That’s disappointing.
Most of the time, I don’t begrudge Charlie’s dad a thing. In fact, I’m grateful he walked away completely, avoiding any messy custody issues. We were kids ourselves, and he wasn’t ready to raise one. Even with Charlie being born different, I rarely found myself wishing he’d stuck around.
But there are times, in moments like this, when I hate him for denying Charlie a father in his life. He could’ve at least agreed to stay in touch, to be available if or when Charlie ever wants to reach out. At least then, there could have been a way for my son to not be the odd one out, with his mother as his partner for this skills day, or whatever it is. Charlie came home one day, so excited about it. And when he said the parents were to participate, I went out and bought myself a baseball glove.
It’s got purple stitching. And I kind of love it.
I just didn’t expect to be the only woman holding one today.
I also don’t love the anxious nerves I feel inside, worrying I might do something to majorly embarrass my kid. Charlie’s right, my love of watching baseball doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll be any good at playing.
“Alright everyone, c’mon over, let’s get started.” The ridiculously handsome guy I immediately recognize as Rhett Darlington speaks with a loud southern drawl.
So that’s the former pro ballplayer who’s got my kid finally wanting a prosthetic arm. I watch him interact with the kids, his smile genuine and wide for each of them. He gives Charlie a fist bump, and I guess Charlie must point me out because then I’m treated to a grin of my own as he makes his way over.
“Nice to meet ya, Isla. I’ve heard a lot about you from your boy. He’s got a good arm for a rookie, I’m glad he’s givin’ it a try.”
Dang, that southern accent is swoony. “Thanks, he’s enjoying practice. We’ll see if I can keep up.” I smile as Rhett chuckles.
“Don’t worry about it, darlin’. We’ve got plenty of other adults showin’ up today to help out if needed. But you already know that, I’m guessing.”
My brow furrows. “Know what?”
“Hey Rhett, I didn’t have a chance to fill Isla in on our plan.”
