Page 154 of Really Truly Yours

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I have to say, the luxury suite we’ll watch from is far nicer than the nosebleed section I sat in years ago when I went with a friend’s church youth group to a game when I was in junior high.

The people swarming around me, mostly players’ families, drip money. I’m becoming accustomed to the look after these days with the Walkers.

Hah, that’s a good one, but at least my jaw manages to no longer visibly drop every time I see one of the wives’ massive diamond rings.

If only my stomach didn’t ache so, a quiet threat to a magical evening. I sip from the water bottle I plucked from a well-stocked buffet table upon arrival. Next to me, Avery does the same. Tripp stands beside her, engaged in lively conversation with a man who was introduced to me as a retired player and current executive with the club. As we shook hands, he winked and made a remark about Gray settling down. I wish people wouldn’t say stuff like that. Naturally, Dr. Chelsea was within eavesdropping distance.

Someone bumps into me for about the hundredth time, and I’ve been here maybe thirty minutes. A trickle of perspiration makes its way down my sternum. I pivot to tell Avery I’m going to find a place to sit, when a warm hand slides around my waist.

Gray, eyes bugged, starts a perusal at the top of my head, flowing it down from there. No inch of my person is bypassed, including my bare shoulders and, well…everything. My heart races. He likes it.

His throat bobs. “Where’s the jersey?”

My heart sinks. “I’m so sorry, Gray. I spilled my latte all over it.” I weave our fingers together. “It was such a sweet gift, but there was no time to wash it. Annalise loaned me this outfit. I really am so sorry.”

The smoky smile he casts over me awakens napping butterflies. “Jersey-shmersey. You look...” He wraps the other arm around my waist and teases my ear with his lips. “Amazing.”

My heart doubles in size. Gray says just the right things.

I slowly compose myself and lay my palm on his firm chest. “I didn’t expect you right now.”

“I snuck away for a minute.” He sighs. “I sure wish I could stay. Got another interview in a bit. How’s it going up here?”

He warned me he wouldn’t be around during the actual game, either, which won’t kick off, or whatever it’s called, for nearly another hour. He’ll be in the dugout with his team, but he can bet I’ll be watching for him on the screens here when they show the team on TV. I’ve already seen his first interview with several other players—as well as with a reporter who touched him every time she asked a question. “It’s going great.”

He squints. “You look tired.”

Yes, my life isn’t accustomed to so much…life. I pat his chest. “Stick with gorgeous next time, okay?” I sound almost clever, don’t I?

His cologne encircles me. His cheeks dimple. “You got it, baby.”

Our moment doesn’t last. Lots of people want his attention. He introduces a stream of new faces. It’s dreadful and exciting at the same time. What grabs me though is his eagerness to introduce every last one of these highflying people to me. For his sake, I squelch my hide-instinct.

The latest is a handsome player from another team, who brings with him two knockout model types. Ever smiling, Gray pulls me tight the moment one of the women, with her pointy red fingernails, wraps her hand around his bicep. There are stars in her eyes and an accompanying openness to anything he might suggest.

A new group shows up, and eventually, I’m wedged out, alone between a super tall man and the wall. Another salt-and-peppered man in business attire has engrossed Gray in a conversation of things I know nothing about. It’s okay. I need a break. My system is sending warning signals.

The bathroom is mercifully empty. Things aren’t as bad as I expect, and the reprieve helps. I leave the fancy little room with hopes the rest of the long evening will be fine, too.

I crane my neck, searching. A number of folks look to be herding themselves outside to the adjacent stadium seating, including the Smiths.

Gray’s stature peeks above the fray. Yes. I didn’t miss him before his interview. His eyes skim. For me?

With several excuse mes, I make progress. Suddenly, the trio blocking me peels off, opening my path. Gray is suddenly not in the center of a mob.

He’s alone with one person, an implausibly beautiful woman who’s bending his ear. Like, literally, her fingers curl around his arm and Gray’s head is bent, listening. His mouth is up on one end in a sly grin. The woman’s hand lights on his chest where mine rested just minutes ago. He chuckles and whispers in her ear. Her laughter makes it across the room.

I race for the bathroom. Spinning the lock, I rest my palms on the counter.

The sick feeling lingers.

I stare into my own eyes. Plain eyes. All the makeup on earth won’t make me look like these women. A change of clothes and I’m still the same me. Me from Miserable Springs, not some exotic place with an exotic life. I fooled myself for a minute. I can’t swim with this crowd. Every last one looks perfect, like the beautiful, creatively adorned fish in the sea.

And some are sharks. That’s simply how the world works.

I’m a guppy lost in a giant ocean.

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