Page 88 of Lucky 22

My heart races, and my hand feels clammy as I clasp my cellto my ear. I’m watching what’s happening on the field even as I listen to myagent presenting the biggest role of my career. Remember that major motionpicture? Their lead actress had to back out, and guess who they want? This iswhat I’ve been working toward since I was a kid. If ever there was a dreampart, this is it. Unfortunately, her timing couldn’t be worse. Everyone knowsI’m here to support Christian.

This is his moment.

I wish she had considered that and simply waited untiltomorrow to call.

A tiny voice in my head reminds me, It’s Christian’smoment, but…this is important, too.

Not that anyone understands that.

My husband does. Truly. But the looks I got as all the restof the friends and family were ushered away—and the snarky comments from someof the players’ wives—told a different story. Words like selfish,self-involved, and rude were whispered.

I’m an actress, and things like that aren’t anything new.But this time, the words stung quite a bit more than they usually do.

I look down at my free hand. At my wedding ring, sparklingin the stadium lighting. It represents the promise Christian and I made to eachother.

So many promises.

So many sacrifices.

I hear the exuberant announcement: “And the Archers have wonthe World Series!”

“Ella? Ella, are you listening to me? This is an incredibleopportunity. They want an answer from you tonight.”

Everyone’s running onto the field, laughing, cheering, andhugging their loved ones. I should be down there. But I’m not.

“I’m going to have to call you back,” I say. “I need torun.”

I hear a loud sigh on the other end. “Seriously? This is thechance of a lifetime. What is there to think about?”

“We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

“Jeez, Ella.” Another sigh. “Are you sure he’s worth it?”

I don’t even hesitate.

“Yes.” I hang up and slide the phone into my purse as I getto my feet.

Now, I can go down to the field and celebrate with myhusband.

Reality hits. THEY WON! I don’t just run, I sprint throughthe concourse, weaving through the chaos of thousands of fans, crying tears ofjoy. Then I head down the stairs and past security.

It feels like it takes forever, but I’m finally on thefield, jumping up and down and trying to spot my man. Luckily, he’s doing thesame as he looks for me.

Then it’s like the heart-stopping moment in every romanticmovie. We’re running toward each other (cue the slow-motion effect), and beforeI know it, I’m in his arms, wrapping myself around him. I’m laughing, crying,and holding on as he spins us both around.

“You’re late,” he says with a laugh, but I’m too excited toeven think of a comeback.

“You did it! You did it! I love you!”

Then he’s kissing me, and I swear this may be one of the swooniest moments of my life. When he sets me down on myfeet, he looks positively ethereal. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look sohappy.

“We did it,” he states.

“Thanks for winning a World Series for me.”

“I wouldn’t be here without you, Ella Rose. You asked me towin another World Series, and here we are.”

“Oh, Christian…” He gives another thorough kiss.