Page 58 of Sliding into Love
"Thank you all for coming. I'm so grateful to have you here for this first game. Before we get started, I want to introduce Kenneth Meyer, the previous owner and manager of the Blue Jays. He's been instrumental in helping me with this transition, and I couldn't have done any of this without him."
I smile at their kind words. It sounds all professional, yet I can hear the honesty beneath them.
Bellamy is the first to extend a hand my way. "Kenneth. Glad you’re here today."
"Wouldn't miss it," I say, shaking his hand. His grip is firm, assessing. He's looking at me like he's trying to figure me out, and I resist the urge to adjust my tie again.
"Let me introduce you to everyone," Bellamy says, and then I'm being swept through a whirlwind of names and faces.
Royce's parents are warm and welcoming, though I catch Royce's mother giving me a long, considering look. Their other siblings, whom I recognize from years of, well, stalking basically.
Carmen with a baby girl strapped to her chest gives me a friendly smile. Austin, her husband, wrestles with a young boy who looks like he has already hit up the dessert section of the buffet.
Everyone is polite, friendly even. But I can't shake the feeling that they're all evaluating me, trying to figure out what exactly my role is here beyond "previous owner helping with the transition."
"So you're stepping down?" Royce's father, who insists I call him Maxwell, asks. "That's quite a decision."
"It was time. The team deserves someone who can give them a new perspective, and Royce is more than capable. They're going to do amazing things here."
A shift crosses his expression—approval, maybe. "That's generous of you to say."
"It's the truth."
Royce appears at my elbow with a bottle of water, which I accept gratefully. The conversation flows around me, and I do my best to engage, to be charming and professional. But part of my mind is still back in that hallway, with Royce pressed against me, their hands in my hair, their voice saying, “After the game, your place.”
I swear I can feel their pulse racing in time with mine. We’re so close our shoulders touch.
"Tonight," they murmur, so quietly only I can hear. But their tone is sharp, almost challenging. Like they're debating whether this is a good idea or not.
"Tonight," I confirm, my voice coming out rougher than intended.
They step away from me then, moving to speak with someone across the room. It should make it easier to mingle.
It doesn’t.
Every time Royce moves around the suite, I can't help but watch them. The way they command the room, the way they light up when talking about the team, the way they deliberately avoid looking at me for long stretches, like they're trying to prove they're not affected.
But I see the way their jaw clenches when I laugh at anything Finn Bellport says. The way their eyes track me when they think I'm not looking. The tension is still there, crackling between us like a live wire.
"You've got it bad," Bellamy says, appearing at my side again.
"What?! I don’t… I’m not sure."
"Looking at someone like that usually means you are sure. Unless you’re being an asshole to them? Is that what’s going on here? Is it a game to you?”
I shake my head so hard it’s a wonder I don’t need a doctor. “No games here. Other than the one going on outside. I can’t, I wouldn’t, do that to them. I’ve been waiting.”
“Waiting,” Bellamy repeats, voice softer than before. His eyes peer into the deepest parts of me. It’s like he’s digging through it all—my past, present, and hopeful future—to be sure I mean what I say.
Eventually, he smiles and pats my shoulder. He doesn’t say anything though. Instead he walks away, leaving me with a million and one questions.
My gaze immediately hunts down Royce. They’re what my focus should be on right now.
Finding them playing with baby Lee is a surprise. So is the desire that punches through me at seeing them all carefree and happy.
I want to kiss them. Want to pull them close and celebrate today properly. But we're surrounded by people, by their family, so instead I just let myself imagine it all until we can be together later.
The drive home is a blur. I text Royce my address, then spend the entire ride trying to calm down. This is happening. Royce is coming to my place. We're going to?—
