Page 57 of Grand Slam

Doing the same, I smile sweetly and pretend to be oblivious. “Hello?”

“What are you doing right now?” Kelton asks.

“I’m talking to you.” Playing along I try not to laugh.

“What’s your view like, Emerson?” Biting my lip hard I hold the phone away so he doesn’t hear me laugh.

“Oh,” I fake innocence. “Nothing special.”

“Liz sent me some footage of the current situation.” I can almost picture the scowl on his face.

“Hey this one is on you, buddy.” I no longer hide the humor I feel. “I would like it noted that I said we didn’t need a moving company. You, however, insisted on hiring and paying for said moving company. Maybe you should have listened to me instead.”

“Or maybe I should have been there too.”

“Maybe you should have,” I counter back. I don’t argue as I remain seated in the chair on the front porch of our apartment watching the three men move boxes around and load them into the awaiting truck. Liz and I don’t have a lot of furniture we are taking with us. We sold what big pieces we did have because they were worn out and mismatched.

Mainly it is Liz’s bedroom furniture and mine, as well as kitchen items and lots and lots of clothes. We both may have a shopping addiction, but retail therapy is good for the soul. Not so great for the pocketbook or the lack of space we had here in our tiny apartment.

“Are you standing guard?” he asks and nothing seems strange about his question until he continues. “Just in case Larry, Mo, or Curly drop one of the boxes or trip over a rock. You ready to hop up out of that chair, hurry off the porch and run to their aide?”

“No,” I say then it hits me.

“How did you know I was on the porch?”

“Your hair looks cute all piled onto your head like that.”

“Kelton,” I say as I start to scan over the area. A sleek black car sits across the street idling alongside the curb as I focus on the driver’s side window.

“Hi, baby.” He lets out a low chuckle and I swear my heart feels like it leaps from my chest.

“Kelton,” I say again and slowly I watch the window lower and there smiling at me is the man that makes my entire body feel alive. I’m barely able to breathe evenly, my pulse racing, my hands trembling, and heat settling down low in my stomach.

“I can see your rosy cheeks from here, sweetheart,” he says. “Is my girl happy to see me?”

I nod and he laughs.

“Still wanna sit on that porch watching those movers or do you want to go for a ride with me instead?”

“Ride.” I am already standing and walking off the porch.

“I’ll text Liz,” he says. The call ends and as I reach the curb, he opens the door and climbs out. He’s wearing jeans hugging his muscular thighs and a T-shirt fitting him snug over his arms and chest.

“Missed you,” he says as he takes a couple steps to meet me. His hands go to my face, pulling me in, his lips crashing to mine. “Thought I’d come meet you girls and drive back with you,” he whispers with his lips still pressed to mine.

“What about the car?” A car I’ve never seen before until now. It’s beautiful.

“Yours,” he says, trying to lean in for another kiss and I lift my hand pushing against his chest.

“Excuse me?”

“I know what you’re thinking.” He holds me steady so I can’t move away as he pleads his case. “But this car is for the baby.”

“Because he or she is going to come out ready to drive?”

“No, but you have to agree that,” he points toward my beat up old Toyota and I don’t look because I can’t argue with the logic of what he is referring to, “that won’t make it to Tennessee. It probably won’t even make it out of Chicago. This car is reliable and safe.”

“I don’t want you buying me things,” I say, feeling the familiar shame of the recent rumors and he must sense what I’m leaning toward.

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