Page 98 of Pitcher Perfect
Why did she look so thrown by the simple question?
Was Skylar missing something? Had Eve’s disagreement with Madden continued without her being aware of it?
“No, we’re fine, actually. Better than fine.” Holding Lark in her arms, Eve stood up, stooping with some difficulty, bending her knees to clutch her purse with a hand that was already semioccupied. “But it is getting late, so I think we’ll head out.” She hustled Landon toward the door, nodding as he whined to be carried like his sister. “Thank you, Doug. Thank you, Viv.” On her way out the door, she looked back at Skylar with undisguised regret. “Skylar... call me, okay?”
“Yeah,” Skylar creaked. “Love you.”
“Love you.”
Activity took place around Skylar after that, but she was onlypartially aware of voices and movement. Dishes being dried. Art supplies being cleaned up. Madden pacing and looking out the window. Elton reading off dating profiles out loud to get Vivica’s opinion. And Skylar just sat there, unable to feel her legs.
Am I getting played?
What am I doing?
If Robbie was there right now, she’d probably be reassured, but he wasn’t. All she could see were those incredibly confident women on his lap, and the insecurities she’d made great headway in overcoming the last week started to bleed back in. Ifthosewomen hadn’t stood a chance with Robbie, how could she?
“Skylar,” a deep voice prompted. In a way that suggested they’d been trying to get her attention for a while. Madden. He’d sat down on the coffee table in front of her, his hands clasped loosely between his knees. He tilted his head to search her face, his right knee brushing hers, maybe accidentally? She didn’t know. Didn’t know up from down in that moment. Only that she desperately needed a grounding presence and Madden was there now, taking up space. “I was wondering if... you want to get a drink with me.”
Her first instinct was to laugh.
Really.
Really?
She’d carried a torch for this man since high school and he’d never done more than humor her, treat her like a kid. One he cared about, but still. Now that she was over him, he finally asked her out? The irony sucked on top of everything else. It was too much, but... maybe that’s what she needed. Too much. To be overwhelmed and distracted and dammit, she refused to sit there in a pathetic fog of inadequacy and doubt, waiting for a man who up until very recently was throwing whipped cream bikiniparties. And suddenly, she was dissecting everything he’d said about his last trip to Boston, putting together timelines and... holy shit. Was she setting herself up for this kind of constant worry?
No. Hell no.
“Yeah. I’ll go get a drink, Madden. Sure.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Robbie sang at the top of his lungs to “Freak,” by Doja Cat, even though he was in gridlock traffic and people in the surrounding cars were openly watching him, probably even taking pictures, if they recognized him. Robbie didn’t care. He was in love. Even the I-95 traffic couldn’t penetrate the golden glaze that coated him like frosting on a donut.
When the song ended, he reached into the bag Skylar packed him and took out the sandwich, unwrapping it and consuming half of it with one bite. “She even makes good sandwiches,” he shouted around a full mouth. “I’m going to marry her.” He honked at a middle-aged man in the Nissan to his right, leaning his head out the window. “I’m going to marry Skylar Page.”
Dude tapped his horn. “Good luck.”
“Thank you.” He swallowed the rest of the sandwich without chewing, then regretted it, because he only had one Skylar sandwich in the car. “Dang.”
His phone rang where it sat charging in the cupholder.
Robbie picked up the device and looked at the screen. “Hauer again? Comeon.” He answered. “What’s up, Hauer?”
“Corrigan. Sorry for the last-minute scramble. Practice is off.”
“What? I just drove from Rhode Island.”
“Yeah. Apologies. All this rain, there’s some issue with a leak at the arena. It’s not even near the ice, but there’s some liabilitybullshit that says we can’t be in-house while they’re making repairs.”
Hope and anticipation sparked. “Does this mean I can go back to Rhode Island?”
“Yes, but stand by for a possible practice tomorrow.”
“Ten-four, Hauer. Over and out.”
Robbie had barely ended the call when he started looking for the fastest way to turn around. To get back to her. He almost sideswiped a minivan in his haste to reach the exit ramp, already imagining the softness of sleepy Skylar beneath him when he crawled into bed with her. How she’d snuggle into him in those flannel sheets and breathe against his throat. God, he never wanted to sleep any other way. He should stop and get flowers or something. No, forget flowers. He’d buy her some of those gel pens for her planner. They carried those at gas stations, right?
