The Sweetest Game (22 page)

“Deny it all you want,” Dean told her. “Be scared all you want. I’ll be here to remind you. This is the real deal right here. Me and you?” he said, drawing a finger between the two of them. “This is gonna last.”

“So this is really happening? The two of you are finally a flipping couple! Am I dreaming?” I walked over to Melissa and hugged her before doing the same to Dean.

“You’re not, but I think I am,” Melissa said dryly.

Jack opened the fridge and pulled out two beers. “Time to man up. Drink,” he said, tossing a can at Dean. “Fun-Size, you need another shot of liquid courage? Not that it helped.”

Dean looked down at her, a playful smile on his face. “You did shots before I got here?”

“Correction, I did a shot. One. And yeah. I thought I was going to throw up on your shoes if I didn’t.”

He wiggled his right foot. “I like these shoes.”

I hopped up on the counter, my legs and feet dangling over the side. “Hey, I have a question.”

Melissa’s perfect little eyebrows drew together as she asked, “What is it?”

“While Jack was eavesdropping on you guys, and I couldn’t help but overhear because I refuse to leave his side,” I said innocently as Jack poked me in the ribs. “What did you mean about all your plans? Or the rest of your plans or something?”

She pressed her lips together before blurting out, “It’s all wrapped up in the same thing. The breakup. I lose him first,” she said, pointing at Dean before continuing. “Then I lose my best friend. And then I lose her kids. And so that means that I don’t get to have kids with you and our kids won’t be best friends and we won’t move next door to each other or raise our babies together or do any of the things that I completely plan on doing with you. Because that’s what best friends do. We have kids together and shop together and our families grow up together.”

I tried to kick her, but my foot wouldn’t reach that far and I refused to hop down from the counter. “You’re a dork. Just marry Dean and then we can do all those things, ‘kay?”

Dean looked down at Melissa and squeezed her shoulders. “Yeah, just marry me. Problem solved.”

“I’m serious!” she practically screamed.

“So am I!” Dean yelled back.

“Enough!” Jack pressed his hands around each side of my stomach as if the baby’s ears were there. “You’re going to stress out my baby. And I’ll fucking kill both of you if you do that. Don’t shout around my kid,” he said forcefully, and I rolled my eyes. “If our baby comes out rolling his eyes, Kitten, so help me God—”

“Yeah? So help you God, what? What are you going to do?” I shot back playfully.

Jack slammed his fist against the granite. “I don’t know, but I’ll think of something to torture you with!”

“You two are ridiculous,” Melissa said as she snuggled closer into Dean’s arms.

I stuck my tongue out at her and she did the same. “You,” I pointed at her, “are not ever allowed to say that to anyone. Ever. You’re the most ridiculous couple I’ve ever met.”

“You gonna let her talk to us like that, Melis?” Dean taunted.

Melissa narrowed her eyes playfully. “You want me to hit a pregnant chick?” She made a fist and punched her other hand with it.

Jack stepped into the space separating us. “I will hurt you, Fun-Size. No one messes with my baby mama.”

“Oh my gosh, how long have you been waiting to use that line?” I doubled over laughing, along with everyone else.

“Weeks,” he admitted with a dimpled smile before stepping between my legs.

I love those dimples.

I hope our baby has those dimples.

“I almost forgot, I have something for you.” Jack perked up and disappeared into the garage. I heard one of the car doors open and close, then Jack walked back into the kitchen.

He tossed a small package at me and I caught it with both hands. “What in the world?”

“Just open it.”

I peeled back the wrapping paper to reveal a small cardboard box. When I opened the top and looked inside, I gasped with surprise, then pulled out a miniature mason jar filled with quarters.

Jack beamed at me. “Those are for all the belly touches. I’m going to be touching your belly a lot. I figured I oughta pay up.”

Shaking my head in amazement, I glanced around the room at some of the various jars proudly displayed, each jar filled to be brim with quarters, and representing different times in our lives. The original jar he gave me in college sat in our bedroom, untouched.

I’d taken the jars of quarters from when he asked to be traded to the Mets and placed them in my new home office. They reminded me of everything he sacrificed to win me back, and looking at them made me happy. There were other various-sized jars from throughout our years in New York, when we refused to spend them. We collected every quarter that came into our possession. And now we’d be starting our California collection. I knew right where this miniature mason jar would be displayed: our baby’s room.

“I think you still have a few touches left from the other quarters,” I reminded him, waving my arm in the direction of one of the jars in the living room.

“You can never be too safe. Can you, baby?” He pressed his lips against my stomach and I rubbed the top of his head, feeling more content than ever.

Jack and I finished moving into our Newport Beach house without any issues, and I found myself stunned every morning when I opened my eyes and could see the ocean from our bedroom window. The beauty floored me and I prayed I’d never get used to it or take it for granted.

Matteo and Trina had their baby girl in November. They named her Adalynn, and I flew to New York in January to photograph them for the magazine. The pictures turned out stunning, but it didn’t hurt when all three of your subjects were gorgeous. They were set to be the featured article online, as well as in print in one of the summer issues.

Trina was thrilled to see me and my growing belly, and she couldn’t wait to give me all sorts of tips and tricks to stay comfortable and fit during the pregnancy. She was obsessed with pillows and told me I needed at least eight. Who needed eight pillows to sleep? I laughed, but she made me promise to buy more.

She also talked about maternity yoga and prenatal massages, and basically refused to acknowledge the fact that I wasn’t a freaking supermodel before the baby and I sure as hell wasn’t going to be one after. But I missed her. And I made her promise she’d come visit.

Matteo squeezed me and rubbed my belly when he saw me at the airport. He was happy to see me, but he admitted he wished that Jack could have come too. It was too close to spring training for the pitchers and catchers, so Jack stayed behind to pack and get ready. “It’s like old times,” Matteo said while driving me to their apartment, and I almost started crying. It felt amazing to be in the city, but so much had changed in such a short amount of time.

As hard as it had been to leave, I knew without a doubt that I didn’t belong there anymore. At least, not right now. Plus, I couldn’t see raising a kid in Manhattan. Being in the city as an adult felt like one thing, but raising a child in a city that busy and bustling seemed like another. I supposed when it came down to it, I was a California girl through and through. I liked the suburbs, with their front and back yards, and neighbors you actually came to know.

I walked through the sea of red-clad Angel fans, my stomach protruding like I was smuggling in a beach ball under my maternity top. Silently, I cursed Jack, wishing that I had been smart enough to time my pregnancy with an off-season due date. But then again, we hadn’t really planned it anyway.

Making my way into the players’ wives section, I smiled at my new companions and forced my growing body into the tiny green stadium seat. I looked down the aisle at Ashley, the ridiculously cute blonde wife of one of the veterans. She was the queen bee of the wives on this team, their Kymber, but minus the horrible attitude. Every team probably had their own Kymber, but I never wanted to be her. At least Ashley hadn’t treated me badly when I first arrived. I wasn’t sure if it was because Jack had already paid his dues in the organization, or if it was because we were married and I didn’t work, but I didn’t care. Whatever created less drama and stress in my everyday life was good enough for me.

“How are you feeling, Cassie?” Ashley smiled from behind her oversized sunglasses.

I rested my hands on top of my huge belly. “Like a whale,” I huffed out. This kid was heavy. My lower back hurt and my ankles were swollen. Not like I could see my ankles anymore, but I could feel them.

How come no one ever warned you that one day you’d look down for your feet and they’d be gone? One day out of the blue, my feet disappeared beneath the oversized growth in my stomach and I freaked out. No matter how hard I tried to see them, I couldn’t. It was scary to lose your feet. I decided right then and there that the next time someone I knew got pregnant, I would warn them,
One day you’ll wake up and your feet will be gone. Do you need a pedicure? Are your feet dry? Who knows, because you can’t see them.

The freakiness of losing my feet was one thing, but losing the private part of me was another. That had disappeared earlier, but it was still traumatic. Jack laughed at me when I told him I had no idea what was going on down there. He promised to keep an eye on it for me. How comforting.

The sound of someone shuffling to the seat next to me stopped me from feeling sorry for myself. I turned to see a girl I didn’t recognize. The poor thing, she looked terrified.

“Hi,” she said softly, her long brown hair falling in front of her brown eyes as she directed her gaze toward the field in front of us.

“Hi. You must be new.” I hesitated, wondering if this girl was actually the girlfriend of someone on the team, or just a weekend fling. I’d seen enough girls come and go over the years that I finally understood why the other wives tended to keep their distance, but it still didn’t explain the outright nastiness once they knew the girl belonged to one of the players. There was no acceptable reason for that kind of behavior.

She nodded. “My boyfriend just got called up from the Salt Lake City team.”

“What position does he play?” I hoped he wasn’t a pitcher. Don’t ask me why, since I knew the team’s roster carried more pitchers than any other position on the team. I think it boiled down to my being scared for Jack. The whole thing with the Mets had scarred me. I’d learned the hard way how disposable and replaceable the players were once they no longer fit the team’s long-term goals.

“He’s a catcher,” she said, and I recognized the pride beaming in her eyes.

“How long have you guys been dating?” I asked. She looked so young. A lot younger than I knew I looked when Jack was called up.

“A few years. We’re high school sweethearts.” A breath escaped as she glanced down at my belly. “And you? Who’s your husband?”

“Oh, I’m Cassie,” I answered, extending my hand toward hers. She grabbed it for a firm shake. “Jack Carter’s my husband. And he did this to me.” I looked down at my monstrosity with chagrin as she giggled.

“I’m Shawna. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Cassie? Cassie!” Ashley’s voice interrupted our conversation and I turned my sunglass-covered face toward hers.

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t you come sit next to me,” she said coyly, patting the empty seat to her right.

“I’m okay, thanks,” I told her. “I probably won’t stay the whole game.” I’d stopped sitting for Jack’s entire games as soon as it got too uncomfortable to stay in those chairs for almost three hours. A few times I’d snuck downstairs into the tunnels, where it was cool, to wait for Jack. Even if the weather hadn’t warmed up entirely, this baby kept me plenty heated.

“Are you going to switch seats?” Shawna asked.

“Nah. I’m fine right here. A word of advice—don’t take it personally if the other wives don’t go out of their way to play nice at first. It’s just what they do until your boyfriend has paid his dues to the team.” I wanted to warn her that the other women wouldn’t be as kind as I was. And since she and her boyfriend had been together since they were kids, I feared she wouldn’t be strong enough to handle it.