The Sweetest Game (4 page)

When Trina had told me she and Matteo were getting married, I nervously asked her if she were certain this was what she wanted. I had clearly gained a deep-seated fear of people marrying for the wrong reasons over the last couple of years; whenever I thought back to the situation with Jack and Chrystle, I shuddered. Putting my fears to rest, Trina had informed me that while they didn’t plan on having a baby first and a wedding second, she didn’t care what order they did things in. They were truly happy and that was all that mattered. And I had to agree because happiness was all I truly wanted for my friends as well.

Nora looked at me over her glasses and raised her eyebrows, obviously waiting for a response.

“The only reason Trina wants to work with me is because if she hates the pictures, she can make me pay for it later,” I said with a giggle.

“You’ll do great. We’ll book a studio with lots of natural light for you, okay?”

I breathed out in relief. “You know me so well.”

“I want pictures of her before and after. Make sure you schedule something with her husband after the baby is born so we can show off the happy family.”

“No problem. Is that it?”

“Go pick out a damn picture already.”

“Fine. But if it sucks and loses, it’s your fault.” I shot Nora a grin as I pushed out of my chair and headed toward the door.

Back at my desk, I was no closer to choosing a photo than I was an hour ago. Glancing up, I spotted one of our interns walking through the elevator doors, balancing two cardboard trays filled with coffee cups.

“Becca,” I shouted and she glanced up, trying not to spill the drinks. “When you get a minute, can you come over here, please?”

She nodded her head as a small smile appeared. Becca was young and still in college, but she had a good eye. And I liked her style.

“Hi, Cassie. You needed me?” Becca sounded nervous and I breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Yes! Thank God you’re here. You have a great eye and I love the way you see things. I need to pick a photo to submit for something, but I can’t choose. I’m too close to the subject matter. Which one do you like best?”

A giant, toothy grin spread across Becca’s youthful face. “I’m honored. Thank you,” she said before hovering over the pictures splayed across my desktop.

It took her all of two seconds to grab a photo and declare it was the one. And I trusted her eye because it meant something in that particular picture stood out above all the others.

“Thank you, Becca. You’re a lifesaver!”

After work, I stepped through the revolving door and onto the crowded sidewalk. Sidestepping the pedestrian traffic, I weaved my way toward the idling black car at the curb. Matteo stood patiently waiting for me next to the car, just like he did every evening. His handsome face broke out into a wide grin as I neared and he held open the passenger door.

“Why are you so smiley?” I asked and he shrugged.

He hopped into the driver’s seat and pulled into traffic. “Life’s good, Cassie. Life is good,” he said in an annoying singsong voice. Matteo’s attitude had been like this ever since he and Trina had hooked up.

“You’re so annoying. Go home to your hot wife.”

“I will. Right after I drop you off at your hot husband’s office,” he said playfully with a wink.

“Ew,” I said with a shudder. “Don’t say Jack’s hot and then wink. It’s weird.”

Unable to respond, he broke out into a huge belly laugh. He was still chortling a little over it as he navigated his way to the field while I scrolled through my personal e-mails on my phone.

A few minutes later, he straightened up and said over his shoulder, “Trina told me about the photo shoot,” which got my attention.

I glanced up to meet his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Yeah. It should be great. You’re in it too, you know?”

Matteo’s posture changed as he shifted nervously in his seat. “I am?”

“Yes. But not until after the baby is born. I’m going to shoot Trina now while she’s showing and then all three of you after.”

“Just make sure you take the most pictures of her. She’s the one who sells magazines, not me,” he offered humbly.

I rolled my eyes. “Oh yeah, ‘cause being forced to look at your mug is really hard on the ladies,” I said with a laugh.

“I knew you wanted me,” he teased and I almost choked.

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head and gave a little snort. “Not this again.”

Since Jack forgave Matteo, acknowledging his hotness no longer made me feel completely awkward. Granted, I wouldn’t be walking around and announcing it to the world anytime soon, but still. It also didn’t hurt that Matteo eventually realized that his feelings for me weren’t based in reality. He figured out quickly that he had gotten caught up in protecting me and caring about me. It muddled his emotions, but once Trina entered the picture, any romantic feelings he thought he had for me were out the window. Thank God for Trina.

The car slowed to a stop as I gathered my things. Matteo reached for the driver’s side handle and I stopped him. “You don’t have to let me out. I got it.” I opened my own door and scooted out before leaning into the open passenger window, “See you later, future cougar prey.”

“Cassie!” Matteo called out in mock indignation as I turned away and walked toward the entry gates of the stadium, laughing. I knew Matteo would love every minute of attention he would get once the article was published.

I scooted into my regular seat next to Tara in the wives’ section, my presence here now a familiar sight amongst the other girlfriends, wives, family, and friends. No longer a girlfriend, the players’ wives accepted me the way they only accepted other wives. And as much as I hated to admit it, being married changed things. I never planned on treating any of the players’ girlfriends the way I was treated, but I acknowledged the difference between being married and not. The social hierarchy existed for a reason, and after seeing the number of girls that came and went with some of these guys, I understood now in a way that had only offended me before.

When I glanced down at the field, the sight of Jack warming up forced my heart to squeeze with pride. His gray sliding pants hugged against the muscles as he lifted his leg into the air before each pitch. The black shirt-style jersey waved in the breeze he created as his arm flew down to release the ball.

I watched as Jack grabbed his hat and tipped it twice, and I couldn’t hide my smile. That was his sign to me. He had started doing it when I couldn’t travel with him on his road trips, which had become more and more frequent with my work. Whenever he pitched, he’d tip his hat twice and his face would light up with a soft smile. He never knew if the cameras were on him or not, but he tipped his hat regardless.

Eventually it became a habit, because he started doing it at the home games as well. Sometimes his eyes would flash to the stands and meet mine. When they did, I swear my heart would stop beating, causing my breath to catch. Every. Single. Time. If anyone noticed, I would have been embarrassed, but no one ever seemed to.

I more than loved this man. My husband. My ball player.

My Jack Fucking Carter.

Even his name still gets me all hot and bothered.

Jack bent over deeply, looking at the catcher through the glove covering half his face. With a shake of his head, he indicated no to whatever pitch the catcher wanted him to throw. Another shake and the catcher called time out, than ran over to Jack, who stood waiting on the mound, kicking the dirt.

After a short conversation, the catcher gave Jack a pat on the ass before jogging to his position behind home plate. The umpire pointed at Jack and Jack’s feet touched the rubber mound. With one fluid motion, the ball left his hand and the batter swung and missed. The ball crashed against the catcher’s glove, the sound of it echoing throughout the stadium as the crowd erupted into cheers and I smiled. I loved watching him play. It seemed silly to call Jack beautiful, but when he played baseball … he was.

Someone yelled from the dugout area, but Jack waved them off with his glove hand.
I scooted to the edge of my seat and automatically held my breath, anticipating the pitch. Jack leaned down, eyeing the catcher before nodding his head in agreement with the called pitch. He lowered his glove to his waist before bringing it back up in time with the rising of his knee. His entire body lurched forward with the release of the pitch and the crack of the bat meeting the ball distracted everyone else’s eyes but mine. My eyes stayed loyally focused on the guy I loved.

Because my eyes never left Jack, I witnessed the entire incident. The ball screamed back at him and he reacted as best he could; his body twisted to get out of the way as his pitching hand instinctively reached out to stop the flying ball. I watched as the ball crashed against Jack’s exposed hand before dropping to the ground near his feet.

He scrambled to make the play, but a pained scream tore from his lips as he tried to close his hand around the ball. Face contorted with pain, Jack took a knee and pressed his chin tightly against his chest.

Someone yelled for time out and Jack’s manager bolted onto the field. He helped Jack to his feet and walked him out of view.

“Shit,” I muttered to myself.

“Go, Cassie,” Tara demanded. “Get down to the locker room. That’s where they’re taking him.”

Without a word I nodded, grabbed my things, and hurried toward the staircase that would take me underground. I flew down the last set of stairs to where anyone in the public could go before heading through a private door. Once inside, the air of the cold brick tunnels hit me. The tunnels ran the length of the stadium and unless you’d been under here before, you wouldn’t know they existed. I rounded the corner and jogged up toward the burly security guard.

“Hey, Jimmy, is he here? Did you see them bring Jack off the field?” I asked, my voice distraught.

His forehead creased as he answered, “Jack? No. What happened?”

I released a shaky breath. “He hurt his hand.”

“Really? Damn. I hope he’s okay.” He stepped aside, revealing a small clearing between the guardrails, and I rushed through, walking as fast as my nervous legs would allow.

I followed along with the bricks as they curved gently, noticing the Mets sign attached to the wall up ahead. My pace quickened as I ached to reach the double mahogany doors that read
NEW YORK METS CLUBHOUSE
.

Another security guard sat in a folding chair next to the entrance, his face pinched with concern. He stood upon my approach. “Cassie. He’s in there with the doc.” The sympathy in his sad eyes rattled me even further, and my mouth went completely dry.

“How did he look, Joe?”

“He was in a lot of pain,” he admitted grimly.

My throat constricted, making it hard to swallow. I realized in that moment that I’d never once considered the possibility of Jack getting hurt. He seemed invincible in a way … like his body was born to play this sport and it would never allow him to be hurt by it. It would never betray him like that.

But it did.

And I found myself scared to death about what this meant for him. Jack without baseball … well, that wasn’t Jack at all. I wouldn’t even know who that person was; I’d never known Jack when baseball wasn’t a huge part of his life. Worry shot through me and I couldn’t stop a nervous shiver.