Page 131 of Really Truly Yours

I know the number not because I’m following closely but because Donny won’t let the most minute fact go unremarked upon. Earlier in the season, when Gray was on the active roster, I tuned all the way in on the nights I watched with Donny.

I care what happens because Gray cares, but without him in the game, it simply doesn’t hold my attention like before.

During the seventh-inning stretch, Donny repositions himself in his recliner. This one is clean and fresh, a leather knockoff in good repair.

“You’re quiet today, young lady. You’re missing my boy again, ain’t you?”

Yes. “I’m tired is all.”

A grin splits him from ear to ear. “Right, because you been staying up late talking to my boy.”

That is also true.

His long, skinny fingers pat the top of my hand. “You know I couldn’t be happier, right, sweetheart?”

“I’ve told you. I don’t know where this is going with Gray. It’s all quite early.” There’s no way I’m the kind of woman a man like him wants for his forever.

Gray has another family, one neither Donny nor I have any hope of ever fitting in with.

By the time I arrive home nearing midnight, I just want to cry into my pillow. I soar on the clouds each day when I see Gray’s name on my phone, but the dark of night takes the edge off my joy.

I work my way through the next morning, expectant.

My phone stays quiet and dark. Reality slingshots me back to earth. Midafternoon, I break down and fire off a text.

Me: How is your day going?

My phone, rudely, never responds.

On Gray’s third day in Florida, before the first pitch of the evening, I see him on TV. He’s in the broadcast booth with the announcers. Laughing, smiling. Being the Gray Smith his fans adore.

The one whose world is in a galaxy apart from mine. I can’t help but feel as if he’s found his way back to his people this last week.

At midnight, I sit on the edge of the bed and send another text. It, too, goes unanswered.

By the time I switch off my bedside lamp, I’ve accepted the truth.

And tumbled back to reality.

∞∞∞

In the morning, I nurse a cup of peppermint tea. My stomach usually tolerates it well. At eight sharp, I log into my work system and while away the hours approving returns, fixing billing errors, and answering questions I’ve answered dozens of times. From the shelf in the corner of my living room, my work in progress calls to me. Tonight, I’ll write. I’ll move forward with the one dream that maybe I can do something about.

At noon, my phone on the cushion beside me lights with Gray’s name scrolled across the top. I mute the call and take another bite of sandwich. Two more times before my shift ends and once while I’m sautéing a boring chicken breast for dinner this happens. A pair of texts sit unread.

I’m only continuing the break he initiated, carrying our relationship forward to its foregone conclusion. How could I have ever thought he and I could have something real? I’m just too me for a man like him.

Wednesday when I wake up, three banners are stacked on my screen.

Gray: Are you not talking to me?

I swipe left. The next is from Donny.

Donny: call Gray hes worried.

I click the cursor into the message window.

Me: Tell him I’m fine.

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