Seated in a row of padded seats is a woman with an infant sleeping in her arms, a woman with glasses and a ponytail, and another one with a rose gold pixie cut. The woman in glasses is seated beside a handsome guy in a suit with salt and pepper grays in his dark hair. He’s grinning at the field, chatting about the pitcher’s form.
Silence is a killer when you’re out of your element. Awkwardness is my kryptonite and causes heart palpitations. I’d rather not pass out in front of these people.
I’m grateful when the usher clears his throat. “Mr. Anderson, Miss Williams is here to see you.”
Every eye seems to whip around at once and latch onto me in the doorway. If I could melt between the cracks, I would.
“Oh, you must be Ava.” The woman with the baby hops to her feet, too lithe for someone with added cargo. The baby doesn’t even stir.
She hurries around the wide seats and takes my hand in one of hers while cradling the baby in the other arm. “I’m Skye Knight. Parker told me so much about you.”
“Oh, you’re his—”
“Wife and baby mama.” She snickers. “I’m usually on the field as the trainer, but—” She uses her chin to point at the fuzzy baby head. “Technically I’m on maternity leave.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” Skye grins. “I should clarify when I say Parker told me so much about you, all he’s really told me is he’s seen you, that you are human, and you make a certain someone nervous.”
She lowers her voice on the last part, talking through her teeth, even though everyone can hear. I don’t know what to say. How much does she know about my history with Ryder?
I’m saved from digging up a coherent answer by the four-year-old.
“Hi. You have a big stomach.” Charlie is the definition of social butterfly mingled with a hefty dose of blunt.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I’m quick to say, but stop when Skye bursts out laughing.
She gives Charlie a high-five. “I do have a big stomach. I just had a baby. And who are you, little man? You look like the best Kings fan ever.”
Charlie beams and puffs out his chest. “Pops takes me to the games. I like the fastball thrower.”
“Pitcher,” Dad whispers. “He means the pitcher.”
Skye lifts her brows. “Ohhh, a boy after my own heart. I like the fastball thrower too. A lot, actually.”
I make the decision to like Skye Knight. She speaks to Charlie like she appreciates his boldness. Anyone who shows tenderness and love to my nephew gets a gold star in my book.
“This is Charlie, my nephew,” I tell her. “And this is my dad, Jack.”
“Grateful for the house seats,” Dad says, shaking Skye’s hand.
“Oh, of course.” She uses her thumb to point over her shoulder. “The old guy over there insists anyone who works for Burton Field has to experience at least one game from the suite. Good thing the All-Star game was still on the schedule.”
“I know my own daughter didn’t call me old.” The man in a suit stands, buttoning the center button.
My eyes pop. He’s Skye’s father?
He strides with the confidence of the king of the universe and holds out his hand. “Dallas Anderson. Ava, I’m so glad to meet you.”
“You too, sir.” Dallas has a charming smile, it’s welcoming and powerful all at once. It puts me at ease to the point I’m not afraid I’m about to burst into braying sobs or anything.
“Wren and Griffin have been bragging about your work since they got back. When you meet Griffin Marks, you’ll understand that’s a lot of praise.”
The woman with the glasses snickers and comes to Dallas’s side, but holds out her hand to me. “Griff and Ava have already met. He dropped about ten meals of takeout on her porch last week.” Dallas scoffs like it isn’t surprising. She smiles back at me. “I’m Wren Marks, Griffin’s wife.”
I swallow and hope my smile is less serial killer clown and more normal businesswoman as I stick my hand out to shake hers. “Mrs. Marks. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Wren is softer spoken than Skye, but she surprises me and pulls me into a quick hug. “I am not a hugger, but you deserve one. I love what you did to my house. My mom told me all you were given was that Griff loved baseball, a box of Kings stuff, and that I read a lot.”
