Page 82 of Serving Bunt

“The next day,” Abuelita continued. “I made a list of reasons why the two of us would never work.”

“A list?”

“A long list. His family had no money; mine had even less. He worked all the time; I wanted to see the world. He loved baseball, and I thought it was boring.”

I gasped, clutching my chest. “Say it isn’t so, Bueli.”

She threw her head back and laughed.

“The point is,” she said, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. “Every time I thought about being with him, I always found another reason why we wouldn’t work. Another problem, another obstacle.”

Her expression softened.

“Then one night, after I had spent weeks doing exactly that, he took my hands in his and said, ‘Elena, if you look hard enough, you will always find reasons not to be with someone.’”

I swallowed. The room felt suddenly smaller.

Abuelita tilted her head in my direction and arched her brow.

“There will always be something in your way, mijo. Distance, family, timing, money—the world is very generous with reasons. Tell me,” she said gently, as if I were a lovesick teenager again. I certainly felt like one. “Are you looking for reasons why it won’t work with Matty?”

I looked down at the single piece of popcorn still clutched between my fingers and nodded.

The team.

The media scrutiny.

Our careers.

There were a thousand ways things could go wrong, and yet—

“Maybe you should spend a little less time counting reasons not to and ask yourself if you already have one good reason to try.”

The answer came so fast it almost knocked the breath out of me.

Matty.

Just . . . Matty.

He was my reason, and I was his. At least, I hoped I was.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The only sound was the low hum of the theater’s ventilation system and the distant tick of the clock in the hallway. Finally, I let out a shaky laugh and dragged a palm down my face.

“When did you get so wise?” I grumbled from behind my hand.

“We both know I’ve always been wise. You’re just usually too busy being dramatic to notice.”

I smiled despite myself. “Fair point.”

She studied me for a long moment, then tilted her head. “So, what are you going to do about it? I’ve never known you to give up on anything, or anyone, you care about.”

“I want to see him,” I admitted. “But I also don’t want to ditch you again. Not when I’ve already missed a week of our time together.”

Abuelita shoved at my chest. “Go. I’ll be fine. Besides, I still need to reorganize and label your bathroom storage. You have entirely too many half-used bottles of cologne in there. It’s a disaster.”

I barked out a laugh. “You’ve already done so much while I’ve been gone.”

And that wasn’t an exaggeration.