Page 17 of Pitching for Keeps
Jay: Still no you don't.
Me: Still no I don't.
At 2:00 sharp, we're assembled in the garden for photos. The photographer has us arranged in various combinations, and I'm trying to look bridal-party-appropriate when I hear tires squealing in the parking lot.
"That would be Jay," Greg says with a grin. "Twenty bucks says he's still got eye black on."
My heart does this stupid skippy thing as Jay comes running across the lawn, tux perfectly in place except for his tie, which is draped around his neck untied. His hair is still damp, probably from a quick locker room shower, and yes, there's definitely a smudge of eye black under his left eye.
"Sorry, sorry!" He skids to a stop next to the groomsmen. "Coach wouldn't stop talking about the Sacramento series."
"Dude, you've got—" Brian gestures to his face.
"I know." Jay rubs at the eye black, making it worse. "Tracy?"
And then, because apparently we're incapable of subtlety, I'm walking over with the tissue I grabbed from my emergency kit, reaching up to clean the smudge while he stands still, looking down at me with those stupid blue eyes.
"Hi," he whispers.
"Hi," I breathe back. "Hold still."
"Yes, ma'am."
The entire wedding party is watching us. The photographer is taking pictures. Megan is actually clutching Sarah's arm.
"There," I say, stepping back. "Now, your tie."
"I can?—"
But I'm already reaching up, muscle memory from three years of pre-game adjustments taking over. Loop, tuck, pull, smooth. My hands rest on his chest for a moment, and I can feel his heart racing as fast as mine.
"Still remember," he murmurs.
"Some things you don't forget."
"Awwww," the entire bridal party says in unison.
I jump back. "We should—photos. We should do photos."
"Tracy was just being helpful!" Megan says innocently. "She's very helpful. Always helping with ties and... things."
The photographer, bless him, starts arranging us for group shots. But I catch him smiling as he reviews his camera, probably at the dozen candids he just caught of me fixing Jay's appearance like we're an old married couple.
Which we're not. We're a newly reunited couple who's known each other for nine years and spent the last five pretending we weren't still completely in love.
"Bridesmaids on the left, groomsmen on the right," the photographer directs.
Jay catches my hand as we pass. "Thank you," he whispers.
"For the tie?"
"For waiting."
"I wasn't?—"
"Tracy, you kept my baseball card in your mirror."
"That's not waiting, that's... organizational... memorabilia management."
