Page 6 of Pitching for Keeps
"Tracy?" Megan's watching me with her teacher face. "What do you think?"
What do I think? I think I'm having a breakdown in a bakery because Jay Talley still makes the same face when he eats lemon desserts. I think my sister is two seconds from figuring out way more than I want her to know. I think I need to get out of here before I do something stupid like cry into fancy cake.
"It's perfect," I manage. "Greg will love it."
"Great! Decision made!" Megan claps her hands. "See, I knew having you both here would help."
Jay checks his phone. "I should head out. Don't wanna be late for practice."
"Of course!" Megan beams. "We'll see you tonight at the game. Greg says first pitch is at seven?"
"Seven-oh-five," I correct automatically, then want to sink through the floor. "I mean, that's what I assume. Based on... normal baseball times."
Jay's mouth twitches. "Actually, it's seven-ten tonight. They moved it back for fireworks after."
"Fireworks!" Sarah exclaims. "How fun!"
"Yeah," Jay says, but he's looking at me. "Should be a good show."
He leaves with a wave, and I very carefully don't watch him go. I also don't think about how he still walks with that slight swagger when he's heading to the field, all quiet confidence and focused energy.
"So," Megan says the second he's gone. "Want to tell me why you knew his practice schedule?"
"I didn't?—"
"And why you both picked vanilla first?"
"Coincidence—"
"And why he pushed his water to you like it was the most natural thing in the world?"
"I was choking!"
"Tracy." She uses her serious teacher voice. "I know you dated, but this seems like more than just 'briefly dated a million years ago.'"
Sarah looks between us with interest. "Wait, you and the hot baseball player used to date? Girl, get that back!"
"Can we please just focus on your wedding?" I plead. "That's why we're here. Your wedding. Not my ancient history with—nothing. Not my nothing."
Megan lets it drop, but I can see her filing away every interaction for later analysis. We spend another half hour finalizing cake details, and I act like a normal person who doesn't have the Austin Stars schedule memorized.
Back at the house, I have six hours to kill before the game. Six hours to convince myself I can sit in a baseball stadium and pretend I don't know the difference between a curveball and a slider. Six hours to practice my "confused about sports" face in the mirror.
I'm on outfit change number three (casual but not trying too hard, interested but not invested) when Megan knocks.
"Come in," I call, wrestling with the Stars cap I definitely didn't buy at a gas station on the way home.
"Going for the fan look?" She flops on my bed. "Very supportive."
"It's sunny. I need a hat."
"Uh-huh." She watches me adjust the brim for the fifteenth time. "You know, if you wanted to tell Jay how you feel?—"
"I don't feel anything. I'm completely feelingless. I'm here to support your wedding and watch a sport I barely understand."
"Tracy, you have his baseball card tucked into your mirror."
I spin around. Sure enough, there's Jay's rookie card wedged into the frame, right where I stuck it after unpacking. "That's... that's..."
