Page 32 of Third Strike Smitten

“You know what? I don’t believe you. Not for one second. You’re going to end up in bed with him by the end of the week.”

“Tara! I promise,” I insist, “This is all just for show.”

“Well, I insist that you go back and amend that contract right now. If you’re getting anything out of this, it should at the very least be a good dicking whenever you want it.”

There’s a long pause on the other end of the line. When Tara finally speaks again, her tone has softened. “Isla, you know I love you, right?”

“I do.”

“And you know I only want what’s best for you?”

“Where are you going with this?”

Tara sighs. “I don’t know. I mean, who knows, maybe this fake dating thing could be good for you. Maybe it’s exactly what you need.”

I blink in surprise. “Wait, what? I thought you were against this.”

“I was. I am.” She laughs. “But then the more I think about it, maybe this is the universe’s way of giving you a chance to open up again. To let someone in. To learn that not everyone you love leaves you.”

My throat tightens. “That’s not what this is.”

“Isn’t it?” Her voice is gentle now. “When was the last time you let someone get close to you? Really close?”

I don’t answer because I can’t. She’s right. Since the accident, since losing my dad, I’ve kept everyone at a distance. Even Tara—my best friend—has had to fight her way past my walls.

“Listen,” she continues, “I know you think you’re protecting yourself by never getting attached, but all you’re doing is making sure you’re alone. Maybe this fake relationship is the universe’s way of giving you a practice run. A safe way to remember what it’s like to have someone in your life.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I say, but there’s no conviction in my voice.

“Is it? Because maybe it’s perfect. You get all the benefits of a relationship without the commitment. And when it’s over, you’ll have shown yourself that you can survive a breakup. That not every ending has to be tragic.”

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. “Tara...”

“Just think about it,” she says softly. “I know you’re scared. I know you think letting someone in means giving them the power to hurt you. But what if it means giving them the power to heal you instead?”

I don’t know how to respond to that, so I don’t. Instead, I change the subject. “I should probably get ready for the day. We have a flight back to Portland today.”

“Fine, but we’re not done talking about this,” Tara warns. “And Isla? For what it’s worth, I think this could be really good for you. Just...be careful, okay? With your heart.”

“I will,” I promise, though I’m not sure I believe myself.

After we hang up, I sit on the edge of the bed for a long time, staring at my reflection in the hotel room mirror. Tara’s words echo in my head. Maybe this fake relationship could be good for me. Maybe it’s exactly what I need. But the real question is, how am I supposed to act around him today?

Like nothing happened?

Like we didn’t just enter into some bizarre pact that could potentially blow up in both our faces? The thought makes my stomach twist into knots.

By the time I make it to the airport following this afternoon’s game, I’ve convinced myself that I can handle this. I’m a professional, after all. I’ve dealt with difficult passengers, turbulence, and emergency landings. How hard can fake dating a baseball player be?

Spoiler alert: apparently, very hard.

The moment I spot Killian walking through the terminal with Bishop and Carter, my heart does this weird fluttery thing that it definitely shouldn’t be doing. He’s wearing black dress pants and a sport coat that fits his body perfectly, and his hair is still damp from what I assume was a post-game shower. He looks unfairly good for someone who just played nine innings of baseball.

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath, quickly turning to check the coffee machine.

“Everything okay?” Padrick asks, appearing beside me with a concerned expression.

“Fine,” I lie, straightening my uniform.