Page 67 of Lucky 22

“We’re here and having this incredible break from realityafter almost three years together. I guess I was just curious if all thesacrifices…the ones we had to make, the ones you had to make—and will probablystill have to make—as a baseball wife are worth it.”

I study him for a long moment before I reach for his hand.“Christian Lucas, I would do it all again in a heartbeat.”

He looks relieved. “Really?”

I nod. “Really. Although, maybe with a smaller wedding.”

We both laugh at that one. “You wouldn’t get any argumentthere from me.”

I catch him looking at our hands, even as I do the same.“Does it feel weird wearing a new ring?”

“Sort of. But not in a bad way. To be fair, other than myWorld Series ring, it’s the only ring I own, and that ring is too big to wearevery day.”

We’re quiet for several minutes as we enjoy the view andeach other’s company. It’s serene and beautiful and comforting.

I’m the one to break the silence. “You know, I didn’t get toexperience your World Series win with you,” I begin carefully. “So, I wouldappreciate if you would win another one, just so we can experience ittogether.” I say it jokingly, but I’m sort of serious. I would love to be withhim and see him reach that career high again. I know it’s something he talksabout every season, but I hope it will happen again sooner rather than later.

Grinning, he winks at me. “I’ll see what I can do.”

ChapterTwelve

One of my favorite things about fairy tales is how theyalways end, with the prince and princess riding off into the sunset, all smilesand full of love, their happily ever after guaranteed.

For a while, ours looks like that. Perfect. Magical.Everything we’ve ever wanted.

But the truth? Behind the scenes, the fairy tale is startingto crack.

Dramatic much?

Okay, it isn’t our relationship that’s cracking.Not exactly. But the pressures from both of our careers suddenly feel heavierthan they ever have before.

I’m getting ready to start filming Workin’ for Laughsagain, and things aren’t exactly great.

It’s a sketch comedy show in prime time, so while we’re notpushing the envelope like they do on Saturday Night Live, there area lot of innuendos and implied things that I’m getting uncomfortable with.

And so is Christian.

My recurring roles on Storyteller are much more wholesome.I’m still able to play a teenager because of my looks, so on one network, I’messentially a child, and on the other, the humor is…well…very adult. And not sowholesome.

I’m conflicted.

Essentially, I was cast because I was the cute girl whoshould be seen and not heard. Look cute, but don’t be too funny. The arm candy.

That’s not to say I don’t have speaking parts—I have plenty.But it’s nothing compared to the men’s roles.

But like I’ll never tell Christian how to play baseball,he’s never tried to tell me how to act. We share our experiences, listen toeach other, and show support. But as I’m getting ready to fly to Atlanta, Ican’t help but gripe a bit.

“I just wish they would let me spread my wings a little,” Isay as I start placing clothes in my suitcase. “I’m not new to the business,and I’ve worked on several successful TV shows.”

“Have you tried talking to the writers? The producers?”

I shrug. “Every once in a while, I go rogue duringrehearsals and try something, hoping they’ll like it, but it’s like gettingreprimanded in school. I’m told to stick to the script.”

He nods, but I know he’s choosing his words carefully.“Okay, but that’s not really talking. You need to have a conversation with themand let them know how you feel.”

It’s sweet that he’s trying to help, but he doesn’tunderstand how things work in the entertainment business. There’s a chain ofcommand, and I am the lowest person in it.

“It’ll be fine,” I say, but even I can hear theweariness in my voice.