Page 141 of Play Along

And now, here I am in his car on the way to the airport, leaving what I think might be what I’ve always been looking for.

Before batting practice, we went to my apartment so I could pack and change into clothes that weren’t his, and once again, I left my car at the field and opted to ride passenger with him. But he’s been silent most of the ride, entirely in his own head.

We haven’t kissed today. We haven’t touched. It’s clear that neither of us knows where we stand in the light of day, and it didn’t help that once we left his apartment, we were at the field all morning for Sunday batting practice, unable to really talk about things before leaving for my interview.

“You have everything you need?” Isaiah finally asks.

One strong hand on the wheel, sporting that backwards baseball hat that has me imagining all sorts of things I’d like him to do to me while wearing it.

“It’s only a couple of days,” I remind him.

He keeps his eyes on the road. “A couple of days could change a lot.”

“Or I might not get the job at all.”

And I shouldn’t be entertaining that option. This is everything I’ve wanted. A position I’ve dreamed of. A city I would love to live in.

He shoots me a quick, deadpanned glare before refocusing on the road ahead of him. “You’ve got this, Kenny.” His tone is full of encouragement, as if that’s what he thinks I’m looking for. “In case you don’t already know this, I’m so fucking proud of you.”

My throat instantly feels thick. Impossible to swallow.

No one has ever said that to me before. I got a high score on my MCATs and my mother asked me when I was setting a wedding date. I thought I got the position I wanted in Chicago and Connor asked how many times a year he was expected to visit.

My voice is embarrassingly small. “You are?”

“Hell yeah. Even when I didn’t know you, that first day I heard you with Dr. Fredrick, I was so impressed by you. I don’t have to tell you how few women there are in professional sports, and you’re doing it, Kennedy. In case you haven’t figured it out yet...” He laughs to himself. “. . . I’m kind of a huge fan of yours.”

Isaiah pulls his car up to the curb outside of terminal two, setting it in park. Finally, he undoes his seat belt and fully turns to face me.

“Go in, show off that big brain of yours, and be yourself. There’s no way they’re not going to love you the way that I l—” He stops himself.

My eyes go wide and his mirror them.

“Llllive, laugh, love you,” he finishes. “The way I live, laugh, love you.”

He says it so confidently the second time, but it still makes no fucking sense. Regardless, I can’t help but burst a laugh.

“You live, laugh, love me?”

“God, so fucking much.”

The car fills with our mutual laughter, and there’s a part of me that wants to stay here all day, in this bubble of just him and me. Not thinking about my career I’ve worked hard for, not dwelling on the fact that this marriage is fake, and not worrying that regardless of anything different I might be feeling, next season I won’t be working for the Warriors.

Because those are the facts. Whether or not I get this job, my time in Chicago is done. Isaiah agreed to fix our drunken mistake for the span of one baseball season. Not for eternity.

“Are you going to do your crossword on the plane?”

“That’s my plan.”

“You know, I’ve always wondered, but never asked. Why do you do those every day?”

I shrug. “When I was younger, I didn’t get a lot of attention from my parents. I was an only child, and I was bored out of my mind most days. But my father, he’d get the Times delivered each morning to read the business section, so I started stealing the crossword to keep myself busy. Felt less lonely when my mind was occupied, you know?”

Isaiah’s brows crease as if he hates that answer. “And you still feel that way? You do them because you’re lonely?”

“I suppose so.” I huff a dry laugh. “But I guess it says something that I haven’t finished one in weeks, huh?”

His smile turns proud.

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