Page 114 of Promise

Trinity narrows her eyes. “Is that Prudence Gallagher? Pete’s sister?” She laughs. “Oh boy. They kind of hate each other.”

She nods toward Tate, who has thrown himself onto the bench, leaning forward with his hands clasped together and his attention arrowed at the umpire near second base.

“Uhm, I’m not convinced hate is the right term. I can feel the sexual tension from here,” I admit, chuckling at Tate’s expense.

Trinity laughs as well, and it reminds me of how we used to be. Observing people, making up stories about them.

However, Trin and I are being watched in return. An approving grin from Hutch. A smirk from Marshall. Dancing brows from Petty.

They can write whatever story they want in their heads. I know the truth.

I’m in love with my wife.

The game goes on, and the evening sunlight fades.

“Need to get Mirabelle home soon?” I ask, as we near the ninth inning, behind by two runs.

“Probably.” Trinity sighs. She’s been holding Mirabelle in a way she faces outward, as if she’s watching the game. “But we’ll stay until the end.”

On my last at bat, I knock the snot out of the ball, sending a guy on second and third home, plus myself. Not a grand slam because bases weren’t loaded, but I still ride the high of winning the game for our team.

Our meager crowd goes crazy while the One-Eyed Snakes bench explodes with excitement. Just your average middle-aged guys pumped over a park district ballgame.

With high fives along the third base line before I tag home plate, it signals the end of the game, and I head toward Trinity.

Grabbing Mirabelle’s foot, I wiggle it. “What do you think, Mirabelle? Did I do good?” I laugh. “Did you see Darty hit the ball?”

Trinity had been doing the mom-bounce, jiggling up and down to keep Mirabelle content, but she stops cold at my question.

“Daddy,” she whispers.

I stand tall. “Darty,” I correct. I wouldn’t dare to dream of being Mirabelle’s dad, although that’s what I hope to be when Trinity and I stay together. When, not if. Because as Trinity’s husband, I want the role as dad to Mirabelle.

I want the three of us as a family.

“Daddy?” Hutch claps me on the back, and I angle toward him.

“I said Darty.”

“Like Farty.” Petty chuckles behind Hutch.

Marshall wrinkles his nose. “He kind of smells like one.”

“Okay, guys. What are we? Five?” I sass.

“Six, at least,” Petty counters.

“And way to embarrass me in front of my girls.”

The entire circle goes quiet.

Trinity clears her throat. “On that note, I should get this little one home.”

She lifts Mirabelle and kisses her cheek. “Great game, Snakes.”

“That’s One-Eyed Snakes, darlin’,” Petty says.

I smack him in the stomach with the back of my hand. He chuckles harder.