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Wiping a napkin across his mouth, he says, “I’m too busy working to find someone special.”
“Don’t let Aunt Amber hear you say you’re not giving her grandbabies in the near future.” I smirk.
“She’s not looking to me yet. That’s the oldest Holmström son’s job.”
“Something tells me Mr. Grumpy Gills Esa doesn’t plan to slip a ring on anytime soon, or ever, so you better dust off your dating skills and get to work.”
Leo snorts. “Esa might live by the live fast, die young, and don’t-talk-to-anyone-while-doing-it motto, but I’m not gonna let my brother off that easy. I’m too young to be a dad,” he jokes.
Taking Leo’s warning about my job to heart, I push aside all thoughts of a possible future with Devin and say yes when Zade from legal asks me out for drinks.
And again, the next week, when a guy waiting for coffee with me at Roast and Sips asks for my number.
And when Shep needs another date for another work party, I go with him, too.
October drifts by like leaves falling from the trees, and though I don’t expect to meet Mr. Right, I hoped I’d at least strike enough of a connection with someone to desire a second date. But aside from having a good time with Shep, who could never be more than a friend, I can’t bring myself to want more.
I’m twenty-three and single in one of the biggest party cities in the world, so I refuse to stay at home and drown in my solitude night after night, but I’m also terrified of running into Devin now that baseball season is over. Is he still in Miami?
Some days I curse the man for keeping a permanent residence in my head. Other days, I buy Big Red packets when I stop to pump gas. Then there are the days I’m tempted to walk up to the fifth floor of TSG, where his agent, whom I’ve yet to meet, works and ask him what’s going on, like knowing the future gives the past closure. Will the Sharks keep Devin in Miami or send him back to triple-A? Stokard’s injury was season-ending, not career, but the buzz around Dev’s play was electric. According to Leo, his offensive numbers alone could land him on the 26-man roster, and the local media loves him.
I can’t figure out what I want most. Of course, I want Devin to live out his dream. I want him to sign a big contract. But could he do it somewhere else? In another state, preferably. I don’t know if I can worry about running into him daily, knowing he’s going home to the love of his life when I’m sitting here struggling to move on from us and what could’ve been.
* * *
DEVIN
After two of the most exhilarating months of my life, I walk out of the Sharks stadium after my exit meeting with the confidence that I’ll be playing here next season. My defensive stats are on-par with Stokard, but my offensive play will seal my deal. Stokard’s batting average is .207, below league average, and definitely below my .301. I have no ill-will toward him or any of the guys in the Sharks organization, but I have a dream, too. After screwing around with Freddie and Andy in the parking lot for a few, we part ways, and I head for my hotel and Palmer.
We relax on the couch in our usual positions, Palmer with her body stretched on the chaise, me with my feet propped on the coffee table. It’s strange living out of a hotel room for so long. While this isn’t the first time I’ve done it, it’s the first time while living with another and for this long. Palmer and I have little space from each other. The thin sliding door between the bedroom and the living area provides no real privacy. The only time we’re apart is when we’re at work. If we need space or alone time we’re relegated to hiding in the shower or going downstairs to the hotel lobby. I won’t say our arrangement has come without its challenges, but Palmer’s an easy person to be around. We lack the drama most couples have. I think it’s why we jumped back into a relationship. We gravitate toward one another.
Palmer sinks low on the couch and flops on her side, hand holding her head up. “If we don’t stay here, where would we go?”
“We could go back to Jacksonville, or maybe go to Vermont, spend some time with my family until I know where I’m playing next season.”
“Is that what you want to do?”
I soak up any time I have with my sister and her little family, but there’s also a pull to stay in place. Here, in Miami. But I refuse to give that pull a name. She’s not the one next to me, putting effort into a relationship. She’s not the one at my side day in and day out, cheering me on game after game. She’s not in the stands any chance she gets.
“I’m open. We could make it easy and stay here until things are final, but I want your input. This is your life, too, Palmer. You have as much a say as I do. What do you want?”
One of the biggest reasons Palmer moved to Miami with me was for a change, an adventure. She wanted a fresh start because she had no ties anywhere. Her birth mom abandoned her when she was a toddler, and ever since she’s been on her own. No siblings or grandparents. No one. I’ve become her family. And maybe that’s why I can’t seem to let her go. I love her too much to watch her roam this world alone. Even if she’s always been a bit of a lost, wandering soul, and she tells me she likes it that way. I want her to find somewhere she can call home, whether that be a place or a person. I won’t be another person who abandons her.
“Honestly, I like where I work. I like Miami for some reason.” A soft curve pulls at her supple lips, the delicate beauty mark on her cheek inching higher. “There’s no point in returning to Jacksonville, and I’d just have to find a new job in Vermont.”
I reach over and stroke her short bangs frayed across her forehead. “So, for the meantime, we stay.”
thirty-four | devin
GuidingPalmer into Caffe Molise with my hand on the small of her back, we’re met with a horde of people. This is what we get for not making a reservation on a Friday night in the city, but Palmer was supposed to work and got called off at the last minute. We could’ve ordered take-out as we do most nights, or cooked in the tiny hotel room kitchen, but I wanted to take her out. Spend some time away from that hotel room and see the city I’ve barely explored due to my schedule.
In the packed entry, it doesn’t matter that there are close to twenty other people waiting to be seated. When suntanned legs in high heels attached to shapely hips catch my attention, it’s not because I can’t keep my eyes to myself. They aren’t just anyone’s legs. Lifting her foot, she seems to detach her skirt from her spiked heel before her toned thighs disappear beneath the high slit of an abundance of flowing dark yellow material falling inches from the floor. She turns her backside, and my gaze skims the curve of her rear, up to the sliver of skin displayed between her cropped white top and skirt. She’s acclimated well to Florida weather. It might be the first of November, but Nova screams daughter of summer.
God, Nova Caroline Pratt will be the death of me.
And then the skin of her waist vanishes beneath a bronzed masculine arm. My eyes trail up, taking in her charmed profile as her head angles back in a laugh next to a man twice her size. Ice fills my veins. He’s not the same guy she was with at VIBE. This is a new guy with curly black hair and a deep tan that matches Nova’s only with more of a natural olive tone under the restaurant lighting. How many guys has she gone out with since she moved here?
The couple in front of us steps aside, and we make it to the hostess podium, where the young woman is busy marking off a seating chart with a wax pencil.
