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Josh and I both watched as the Dodgers held off the Giants from scoring. "Sparks? Shit. I don't even remember. We need to start writing this down."
"No. I'm never betting against you again," I said, swallowing the last of my beer.
"Aw, why not? It's so much fun, though."
Josh grabbed my empty cup. "Be right back. I'll get us more."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. I got it."
And he was off before I could even answer, leaving me alone with my thoughts. My emotions were everywhere today. I hadn't been to Dodger Stadium in a very long time... not since I was a teenager, and my whole family had come.
We didn't go often to games because they were definitely pricy and my parents hadn't exactly been loaded. But we'd gone a handful of times growing up, and the memories came flooding back, bright and painful at the same time.
My brother and I used to wear our gloves, hoping for the miracle of catching a fly ball. Once, a ball had careened our way, and Ryan and I had both pushed each other out of the way, jostling to get into the perfect position. But the person in front of us caught it, and we were both so annoyed. Ice cream had fixed all, however.
God, the days when ice cream fixed everything.
Fighting the bittersweet memories, I stared at Matt Blaze down on the field, feeling great disappointment that nothing had come from our little chat two weeks ago. Nada. Big fat zero.
No comments on our website or any other platforms. Nothing on social media. No emails or DMs.
Even worse than the silence was wondering why. Had he listened to the podcast and hated us? Or had he skipped it altogether? Maybe he was just being nice to the hyperventilating girl in line. Shaking my head, I realized that had to be it. Of course. He was being polite to a freaked-out, nervous bride.
And speaking of the wedding. Ugh. I didn't even really know what was going on with Devon lately. I'd called him often, but he was quick with me, saying he was busy, had a meeting, or had a ton of work to do. So we hadn't truly talked in days. Or longer. And it fucking sucked. He didn't even return my texts half of the time. And it hurt my stupid heart.
As I sat there stuffing my face with the kettle corn, trying to focus on the game, I tried not to let it get to me. Then it occurred to me that maybe on a Saturday evening, I'd actually hear from him. So I took a selfie of my ridiculous get-up and sent it to him, telling him how much I missed him and loved him.
Was that too much? Too gushy? It really shouldn't matter with your own freaking fiancé. You could be as gushy as you wanted, right? I mean, if you weren't gushy with the person you were about to be married to, that was kind of a problem, in my opinion.
"Hey," Josh said, surprising me. "Everything all right?"
"Yeah. Yeah. All good." He handed me a fresh beer, filled to the tippy top and overflowing. "Thanks for this."
"Sure. Next one's on you, bro."
Rolling my eyes, I reached for my buzzing phone in my pocket. Wow. It was actually Devon replying to me. Too funny, he had written. And that was it. No love you or miss you back.
What the actual hell?
"What's wrong?" Josh asked.
Oh, had I said that out loud? With the beer buzz flowing through my veins, I wasn't exactly sure of anything right now.
Josh nudged me with his knee. "Spill it."
I sighed. "Two things really."
"Oh, boy."
"Hey, you asked."
Actually, there was a third. But it was so deeply painful, I couldn't discuss it right now. Tomorrow, August first, would mark the three-year anniversary of my dad's disappearance. And maybe that was why I was having an extra hard time today. When Josh had picked this game, though, he was so damn excited, I didn't say anything. And now, here we were.
"So I can guess one," Josh surprised me by saying. "Because it's annoying me too."
"Oh, yeah? What's that?"
