We also spent a massive amount of time talking about her family, the party, and many other things that made our fake dating seem like a real datingget to know you. It was the first time I was ever truly interested.
We fell asleep mere hours before dawn, when she went home to pack. Now that it was time to go, my nerves had decided to flip on the emergency switch. The problem wasn’t April or our agreement, my issue was with the family. Not hers in particular, just the idea of it all. I’d never been one to do the “meet the parents” thing. My rebelliousdon’t give a fuckattitude when I was younger didn’t exactly have dads rooting for me to date their daughters. Not that I blamed them, I was an asshole. In fact, if I had a daughter, I’m pretty sure I’d be the one that would go to jail over guys like me showing up to take her out.
There was only one time I’d come close, just after I’d gotten signed with my first team, The A’s. Things had gotten serious between my ex and me. She started pushing for acommitment and meeting the parents was priority one for her. My schedule at the time was problematic, which led to the “you don’t care about me or my needs” guilt trip, followed by the “baseball is the only thing you care about” tantrum. Which pissed me off, and in my frustration, I told her she was right. I was still a rookie, and my entire world was solely about building up the name and career that I’d busted my ass for. I’d have sacrificed everything for it, including her, which I did.
The entire situation changed me. Every relationship after that came back to that same conversation at some point, commitment, more. Stability. The one thing I couldn’t give. In professional sports, stability was an ideal. At any given moment, I could be traded and have to uproot my entire life, their life, and God forbid there were kids. Man, that was always a sticky situation, like, it was forgotten about until it happened. I’d hoped the lifestyle, the travel, and freedom to do what they wanted would be enough, but somehow it wasn’t.
Part of me wondered about thewhat if. Would there be someone who could take all the risks? It’d be a lie if I didn’t admit the thought had crossed my mind more often lately. My mother reminded me every Sunday morning at ten a.m. on our phone call that I was turning thirty-five this year and she wanted grandkids.
My phone pinged with the reminder it was go time. I grabbed my bag, the small gift I’d gotten her grandad, and wine for her mom.
CHAPTER 19
APRIL
Josh showed up at the door in a pair of dressy shorts, loafers, a navy-blue polo with the buttons undone, and his hair styled in that perfectly-messy, slight-wave look. Every one of my lady muscles squealed. He cleaned up nicely. Not that I was unfamiliar with seeing him dressed up. He wore suits regularly for game days, but this casual yet, dressy unbuttoned polo and thick forearms? Yeah, that suited him.
“Ready?” He wiggled his brows at me.
“No.”
“Come on.” He grabbed my rolling suitcase from the front door.
“Have fun,” Nora called from the living room. “Lots of fun.”
I glared at her, telling her to shut it. She simply laughed harder.
“I can pull my suitcase,” I huffed, chasing him down the corridor.How does he walk that fast?
“I know.”
“Did you put the directions in the GPS?”
“Don’t need them.”
“No need to be macho here. I am not in the mood to get lost, because yet another man won’t stop for directions.”
“Projecting much?” He stopped dead in his tracks when we got to the parking garage. “Over there.” He nodded toward the matte-black electric SUV with deeply tinted windows.
“You drive an electric?”
“Yeah. Why?”
Josh didn’t seem to be an environmental kind of guy. I expected him to have some rebuilt gas-guzzling muscle car. He loaded our bags into the trunk, muttering, “Why is everyone always surprised?”
He opened the door for me and I slid across the buttery leather fabric. “Thought you’d be more into a sports car.”
“I don’t need a fancy car. I live within walking distance to work or we fly out. Besides, this is easier than having to find a gas station downtown.”
He wasn’t wrong. The closest one is at least ten blocks away, and in Toronto traffic, you’d run out of gas before getting there these days.
“What do you drive?” He eyed me up and down, as if trying to gage what kind of car I’d have. “Big white SUV.”
“Ha.”
“How about a Cooper?”
I snorted. “Me? In a Cooper? Yeah, right. Not even sure my entire ass would fit into it.”
