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“We’ll do a girls’ trip to the beach instead,” I suggested. “It’ll be fun. If you can, just join us later.”
He nodded, swiped his finger across the screen, and answered the call as he walked back into the house. “Hey, Rory.”
TWENTY-SIX
LUKE
Thursday night, I pull the door open at Surfs, a run-down bar not far from my house.
Chloe sits up on a barstool, leaned forward with her elbows propped up on the wood. She’s absentmindedly stroking the neck of her beer bottle. The bartender smiles at her. He’s trying to strike up a conversation, but her eyes are glued to the TV mounted on the wall over his head.
ESPN is on. The usual suspects are talking on screen, the four of them sitting side by side behind the SportsCenter desk speculating on the headline boldly printed at the bottom: LUKE ALLEN COMING OUT OF RETIREMENT.
Ah hell.
I should have known it would leak. Never mind that I haven’t even fully made up my mind…
The bar’s busier than I expected it to be. Old-timers and locals crowd into booths. I tilt my head down, but I still see a man nudge the guy next to him, nodding in my direction.
Everyone’s pretty good about minding their own business out here. It’s not like L.A. where people feel comfortable coming right up to you and asking for an autograph. Celebrity culture in the Hamptons is a little more hush-hush, and I’m glad for it. Every now and then, a group of excited kids will stop me for a picture or to get something signed, but other than that, I almost feel normal here.
I tug out the barstool beside Chloe and, at first, her brows are furrowed into an annoyed scowl at the fact that someone has the audacity to sit right beside her even though there’s plenty of open seating at the bar. Then, when she realizes it’s me, her expression gentles, her lips part. She blinks and takes me in as I smile and lean down to kiss her cheek.
“You’re supposed to be at home with Harper and Tate,” she says, sounding pleasantly surprised.
That was the plan, sure.
Tate’s leaving in the morning. Chloe made an early dinner then said she was going to head over here to give us a little time to be together. Just the family, she said. None of us wanted her to go, but there was no convincing her otherwise.
“Yeah well, they pulled out all of Harper’s new makeup and nail polish…”
Judging by her delighted grin, Chloe loves the sound of this.
“They painted my toenails. After that, I got the hell out of there.”
The bartender comes by, and I ask him for the same beer Chloe has. If he recognizes me, he doesn’t show it.
Chloe laughs and shakes her head. “What color?”
I give her a side-eye. “What do you think?”
“Barbie pink.”
Just in time, that bartender slides me my beer.
My non-confirmation is all the confirmation she needs. She throws her head back and laughs.
I take a long sip of my beer and glance up at the TV. It’s not loud enough to be heard over the music and chatter in the bar, but they’ve got the subtitles on.
“Back as early as August…”
“Some news, huh?”
I shake my head. “It’s not confirmed. Word leaked, I guess. That tends to happen.”
“But you’re considering it?”
I take a second before replying, wanting to be absolutely sure before I take us down this road. “Yeah.”
She’s quiet, and I peer over at her, trying to ascertain how she’s feeling about all of this.
“I’m glad.”
My arched brow betrays my surprise.
She shrugs. “I think it’s the right call.”
“Even with Harper?”
“Yes, even with Harper.”
It feels good to hear her say that. Single-parenting is difficult, not just because of the day-to-day minutia, but because half the time it feels like Harper and I are on an island. Without a partner, there’s no one to bounce ideas, worries, options off of. Making these important decisions all on my own is tricky and tends to come with a lot of second-guessing, so it’s really nice to have her here beside me, telling me I’m doing the right thing.
“I don’t get it though. How can you just go back that easily? I mean, I know next to nothing about this stuff, but didn’t you retire?”
“Yes and no. I’ve always signed short contracts with the Pinstripes. My last contract with them lasted five years, including a player option year. That’s this year. Instead of becoming a free agent, like players usually do, I stepped away from the game altogether. But I’m still under contract, technically. They were going to pay me out for this year whether I played or not because of how long I’ve been with the team, capitalize on the good press and all that. I mean, hell, maybe they were even counting on me wanting to return. So…really, I can go back at any time.”
