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I fight back a sob that threatens to break free. She’s never done this before. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.” He gives her another gentle squeeze then releases his hold on her. “Now, we better get out there before we miss all the fun.” He stands and offers her his hand. She takes it without question. I start to warn her about stranger danger, but she knows him as my friend. Easton surprises me when he holds his other hand out for me. He leaves it there, suspended in the air, waiting for me to come to him.
“Come on, Mommy,” Paisley coaxes me.
“I’m right behind you,” I say, walking toward them, but ignoring his offered hand. He nods in understanding and waits for me to catch up, and the three of us head out to the field. Paisley swings their arms back and forth as she talks Easton’s head off about how fun it is to catch and hit the ball. He’s patient with her and talks to her as if she knows every detail of the game, when in reality she knows nothing. Her friend Macie begged her to play, and we’re just realizing that she loves it. I’m not sure if it’s the sport itself or the interaction with the other kids that she loves. She’s still too little to tell. Even so, Easton listens to her intently, as if she is well-versed in all things baseball.
I should be mad he’s latched onto my daughter, but the smile she’s wearing right now takes away any anger I might have had. He’s making this day special for her.
Damn, this little girl is just like her mother, captivating me from the moment I met her, although in different ways. She’s cute as hell as she talks a mile a minute about hitting the ball and catching it. That’s the extent of her knowledge, but the way she talks as if she’s a little adult, it makes you believe every word she says, as if it’s in the rulebooks for the game.
“Can I stay with you?” she asks me once we join her group on a small corner of the field.
“Oh, honey, I don’t think—” Larissa starts but stops when I bend my knees and get eye to eye with her.
“I’d really like that, Paisley,” I say softly. “But I don’t think that would be fair. Everyone needs a turn, and since it’s just me and Drew working with your group, you’ll have to take turns.”
“But you said we could play catch,” she says, her little lip quivering.
I look up at Larissa to find her watching us. I raise my eyebrows, and she gives me a slight nod. I mouth “thank you,” and turn back to Paisley. No way did I want to tell her no. “How about once the tour is over, you and your mom stick around, and then it will just be you and me? Deal?”
She looks up at her mom, hope shining in her big brown eyes. “Can we, Mommy?”
Larissa nods. “For a few minutes,” she adds, but I don’t think Paisley hears her or cares. She got the answer she was hoping for and rushes off to join her friends.
“I’m so
rry,” she tells me.
“Sorry for what?”
“She seems to have taken to you. I know you have more important things to do. We’ll just stay a few minutes,” she assures me.
Standing, I step in front of her, so close I can feel her hot breath against my chin. “I met this girl,” I tell her. “She’s beautiful but closed off. I was hoping to drop by her work and catch a glimpse of her since she refuses to go out with me.”
“Her life is complicated.”
“Life is complicated,” I counter. “She’s all I think about, and you know what else?” I wait for her reaction. She studies me several long minutes, her breathing labored before she finally answers.
“What?” she asks in a hushed whisper.
“I found out today that she has this amazing little girl, cute as a button, loves baseball.” I wink. “I wish she would give me a chance to get to know her, to know both of them.”
“She worries,” she says, biting her bottom lip.
“About what?” Reaching out, I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“Everything.”
“Who worries about you?”
Her breath hitches. She opens then closes her mouth, no words coming out.
“Yo, Monroe, you ready?” Drew yells to me.
I hold my hand up in the air, my index finger raised, asking him for one more minute. “Thank you for staying after. We can talk then.” I give her hand a gentle squeeze then turn, and walk away, a smile plastered on my face. Not because I’m here in Blaze stadium, my home away from home, but because for the first time I feel like I might be getting somewhere with her.
Drew and I have the group form two lines. There are twelve girls in total on the team, so we each have six. Paisley is in my group; she made sure of it screaming, “I want to be in Easton’s group.” That little girl is something else. We pitch to them one at a time for about half an hour before they’re tuckered out. We sign a few autographs, and they’re on their way.
“All right, Miss Paisley, you ready for some one-on-one?” I ask her.
