Page 114 of Really Truly Yours

“Well, I…”

A voice booms from a few rows back. “He’s Grayson Smith. One of Houston’s starting pitchers.”

Gray drops his chin a notch, accepting fate.

Someone whoops. Several someones. Then applause. Gray dashes a quick wave to the audience.

The guy down front grins like he’s found gold. “Thought you’d pull one over on us, did you?”

Smiling, for real now and oozing charm, Gray spreads his hands. “Threw it my best strike.”

The crowd laughs.

The man rubs his palms together. “Alright. Have a seat, hotshot. This one’s for you.”

Gray snuggles me to him, tight enough I can feel he’s at ease. He doesn’t seek attention but takes it in stride when it finds him.

The comedy sketch is hilarious. Yes, Gray takes a couple of hits but receives them in good spirits, laughing as much as everyone else.

His brand of confidence amazes me.

Grayson

I didn’t expect to draw the spotlight tonight, literally, but I guess things worked out. Better me than Sydnee. Pressed against her, I felt her nervous energy escalate every time the giant light swept the packed seats. Me? I don’t care one way or the other, as long as I don’t come off as a preening attention hog.

What a great night. My only complaint about the show was that I couldn’t enjoy Sydnee’s smiles in the dark. Her laugh is pure magic.

A stiff wind whips around the tall buildings as we aim for the parking garage, turning Sydnee’s hair into a mesmerizing tangle by the time we reach the car. Unlike any other woman in my dating history, she fails to pull down the mirror and take a look, simply running her hand to smooth what she can.

Which isn’t much. Should I tell her?

Nah. I like this look on straightlaced Sydnee.

Ahem.

I gotta make it through this night without screwing up. I’m thoroughly rattled when I consider how much I like her—but Sydnee and trust seem to be have an on-again-off-again relationship. Tonight is not the time to be my impulsive self.

Once we’ve emerged from the downtown maze and settled into westbound traffic, I reclaim her hand. The softness of her skin makes me weak.

She shifts in her seat, landing me under her gaze. “Earlier tonight, you said you didn’t want to talk about serious stuff, but may I ask you a question?”

As long as I can keep holding her hand, she can ask me anything. “Fire away.”

“What do your parents say about Donny?”

She does go for the meat of things. “Absolutely nothing. I haven’t told them.”

She gasps. “Still? Why not?” Worry sketches itself out of the lines of her face. “Will they be upset?”

“I don’t think so.”

“But maybe?”

“I doubt it. We’ve had conversations, mostly at their initiative, about the possibility of me finding Donny one day. They left the decision up to me, though.”

“Okay?”

I know this equates to my silence not adding up. I think for a minute. “The truth is, personally, I never gave too much thought about meeting him. I had a great life and all the love I needed. Tripp is the one I wanted to find, and that happened last year.”

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