Page 62 of Double Play

“Montgomery is here,” I state, rushing to tug on joggers I’d draped over my laundry hamper. Scrambling back to the door, I slip out and shut it once more behind me.

The second Montgomery meets my eyes, hers narrow.

“Are you hiding something in there?”

“No.” My brows hitch as I protectively stand in front of my bedroom door.

“Are you hiding someone in there?” My suspicious daughter narrows her eyes even more as if she can see through the wood barrier.

“What happened with you?” I state, stepping forward and clasping her shoulders in an effort to ignore her question and focus on her. “Why are you crying?”

“Mom.” Her voice cracks.

“Again.”

Michelle and Montgomery have a great relationship, but it isn’t perfect. Equally, Michelle and I worry about Montgomery. She’s almost fifteen. She’s beautiful and smart, and a little too naïve about the world. That’s on purpose, but also a fault. We don’t want her to ever be hurt, as if we can prevent any heartbreak.

“What happened this time?” I ask, just as my bedroom door pops open and India steps out wearing an oversized Terrors T-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts two sizes too big for her. She looks ridiculous and adorable all at once.

“Daddy,” Montgomery whispers as I turn my attention from my bedhead girlfriend to my startled baby girl.

“Montgomery, this is⁠—”

“India Baker,” Montgomery shrieks, stepping forward like she’s about to hug India and then stopping short. Her voice is still high-pitched and her cheeks pinken when she says, “You’re a field reporter for The Den.”

“I am.” India softly smiles while combing her fingers through her hair.

Montgomery is apparently a fan, but then her brows pinch, causing a deep divot between them. “But you just came out of my dad’s bedroom?” She flips her wrist and points toward my room like India didn’t know where she came from.

India looks at me. I glance at Montgomery. Montgomery stares back at me.

“Dad, is India your girlfriend?” she addresses me with equal parts horror and awe, like she can’t believe someone as awesome as India would date me or that I’m dating. Period.

“It’s . . .” Complicated. Would my fourteen-year-old understand?

“We’re dating,” India states. Her gaze latches onto mine a second, hesitating, vulnerable, but I can’t contain the slow climb of my lips, curling in pleasure.

“Definitely,” I confirm before glancing back at Montgomery. “But it’s on the down low. As in, no one can know.”

I hate how it sounds. like we’re sneaking around, which we are, but not for some salacious reason.

“You remember that Isaiah is India’s brother,” I remind Montgomery, who loves her friend-uncle.

Montgomery nods. “Is that why this is a secret?”

While I haven’t spoken with Isaiah directly, only catching up most recently with quick text messages, my relationship status with India hasn’t been shared with him by me or his sister.

“No. It’s about India and The Den.” I pause before further clarifying. “India works for The Den as a field reporter.” Apparently, Montgomery knows this fact. She just fangirled over her.

“Could you lose your job for dating her?” Montgomery addresses me as if India isn’t standing here.

“No, baby. India could lose hers.” The truth hits me smack in the chest and almost freezes my lungs. While I’ve known India’s reservations and I understand her fears, stating it out loud sounds so much more detrimental.

She could lose her job by dating me.

Montgomery is silent for a second, as if processing this reality. I’m still spiraling through it as well, when Montgomery eventually says, “But isn’t love more important than a job?”

India sharply inhales behind me, and I don’t know if it’s the mention of love or the innocence in my daughter’s question. Still, I snap. “Montgomery.”