Page 105 of Fairy Godmothers Aren't Cheap

I tried to say the words “I can’t” but my throat locked as though under a spell.

He placed a soft kiss on my cheek, and I ducked my chin, feeling ashamed for the way I’d abused our friendship and his generous kindness with my wishes. I felt like I’d possibly made him into an amazing boyfriend against his own desires, and forced him to act toward me in the way he would for his heart’s truest match. Not for a woman who could never quite make the distance.

CHAPTER37

~ James ~

The necklace had been the perfect gift.

And yet, entirely the wrong one.

Char’s delight had been clear when she’d opened the box, but then there’d been a flood of about a million other emotions after that. None of them awesome.

And ever since Monday’s gift, I’d felt a sliver of distance between us. We still saw each other as much as we could around our work schedules, and her smiles were always full of sunshine, but there’d been an undefinable shift, as if she were holding back a piece of herself.

Tonight, as the final inning played out on the baseball field, she unconsciously allowed her thigh to press against mine despite the July evening’s lingering heat. She was the best part of my week, and the best part of baseball even though we were in the dugout and not out playing. I was here with her, and that was all I wanted.

I wove my fingers through hers and her chest heaved with a long, silent sigh. For the thousandth time this week, I wished she’d get over whatever fear it was that forced her to keep pulling away. It was like we’d take two steps forward, and then one back almost immediately. What did I need to do in order to prove to her that we were meant to be? That we had it all, right here? That we just needed to have faith and let go?

“This is good,” I murmured, leaning my shoulder into hers.

She pressed back. “Yeah. It is.” She smiled softly, the filtered light caressing her cheekbones like a lover. I leaned over and kissed her, not caring that our teammates sharing the bench might rib us for it. As far as I was concerned, only Char existed.

But there was that tiny wedge again, with her breaking the kiss first. I could apologize for the necklace, but there was no way I ever would. She loved it. She’d wanted it. It made her happy. That meant there was nothing to apologize for.

I’d shown her how she should be treated by her boyfriend, and I wasn’t going to back down or settle for expressing less just because she’d never been shown her true worth.

“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” I whispered.

She tipped her head against my shoulder for a second, and I knew she was echoing my sentiment. “We’re going to lose, though,” Char muttered, tightening her hand on mine as our runner narrowly made it to first base.

“Probably.” I landed a light kiss above her temple. Our team was only down by one, and we were up at bat. We could take this. Well, if we had a stitch of strategy. The problem was, it was leisure league. There was no coaching, no thoroughly considered batting line-ups. We ran a fair and totally randomly rotation that was based around keeping it even.

“This is driving me nuts.” She watched our worst batter approach the home plate, bat in hand. Bases were loaded. Do or die.

We were probably going to die.

“I can’t watch.” She buried her face in my shoulder and I smiled, thanking whatever deity was responsible for this moment.

“Competitive much?” I teased, absolutely loving that she was. I nudged her, sending us both rocking to the side, as one.

She peeked up at me, nose scrunched as she confessed, “I want that end-of-season gift certificate.”

“So do I.”

The league’s winner got a hefty gift card for the local hangout. It meant pizza and lots of beer for the winning team. We were in the running, but only if we used a bit of strategy. Which nobody wanted to hear or implement.

She sat up again, nestling us shoulder to shoulder. We resumed watching our batter swing wildly. Strike. Another strike as they went for one outside the strike zone.

Char’s eyes, despite being aimed at the batter, were unfocused, like her thoughts were elsewhere as she told me, “I ran away once.”

“Where’d you go?”

We were still holding hands, and she clenched mine tightly, as if she was afraid I’d vanish. “Here. The city.”

“Yeah?” I eyed her while keeping my body angled toward the field. “How old were you?”

“Fifteen. I grabbed a ride here with a friend’s family. I said my dad was picking me up later. But he was away working. I stayed at a hostel for two days. Then I got bored and hitchhiked home again.”

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