Page 4 of Pitching for Keeps
"Megan, no." I use my firm marketing manager voice. "Whatever you're thinking, stop thinking it. Jay and I are ancient history. We're different people now. He's focused on baseball, I'm focused on my career, and we're just going to be polite acquaintances for the duration of your wedding festivities. That's it."
She unlocks the car, but I can see the wheels turning in her head. "If you say so."
"I do say so."
"But if you realized you're meant to be together?—"
"Megan!"
"I'm just saying, it would be a really great wedding present. I've always wanted a sister-in-law."
I slump in my seat as she starts the car. "You're impossible."
"I'm romantic. There's a difference." She pulls out of the parking lot, humming what sounds suspiciously like "Take Me Out to the Ballgame."
As we drive back to the house, I let my head fall against the window and try not to think about tomorrow. About sitting in the stands at Dell Diamond. About watching Jay pitch in person for the first time in five years.
My phone buzzes. Without thinking, I check it.
Jay: It's really good to see you, Tracy. Even if it's weird.
I stare at the message for a long moment before typing back:Yeah. Weird is one word for it.
Three dots appear immediately, like he was waiting for my response. Then:My fastball's better now. Finally hitting the corners like you always said I should.
I close my eyes against the wave of memory—countless afternoons analyzing his mechanics, charting pitch locations, believing in him when coaches doubted he'd come back from surgery.
That's good,I type, then delete it. Too casual.
I'm glad you're doing well,I try instead. Delete. Too formal.
Finally, I settle on:Can't wait to see it tomorrow.
The response comes quickly:You always were my good luck charm.
I turn off my phone before I can do something stupid like tell him I've watched every televised game, that I still chart his pitches out of habit, that I've never found another reason to care about baseball that wasn't him.
"You're smiling," Megan observes.
"No, I'm not."
"You totally are. Was that Jay? What did he say? Are you?—"
"Megan, I love you, but if you don't stop talking about Jay, I'm going to take my color-coded binders and go home."
She gasps dramatically. "You wouldn't. You love those binders more than life itself."
She's not wrong. But as we pull into the driveway and I see the Stars schedule I definitely didn't screenshot pulled up on my phone, I'm starting to think there might be one thing I love more than perfect organization.
And he's pitching tomorrow night.
CHAPTER TWO
I wake up super early,which is ridiculous because the cake decision isn't until ten. But my brain apparently thinks we need three hours and thirteen minutes to prepare for seeing Jay in daylight. You know, like a normal person does.
"Get it together, Tracy," I mutter to my reflection. "It's just cake. You've eaten cake before. You can handle cake."
My reflection looks skeptical. My reflection is probably right.
