Page 88 of Play Along

Our wedding song is on full blast as Isaiah makes his way to the plate, but before he gets there, he turns back in my direction. With the entire stadium singing the song I walked down the aisle to, Isaiah extends his bat, points at me, and winks.

He fucking winks.

It’s the moment reality hits me... Miller was right. I think I might have a crush on my husband.

Chapter 17

Isaiah

Cody: Come out with us.

Me: For the hundredth time, I’m not going out tonight.

Travis: We’re only two blocks away from your place.

Me: Still not going out. I’m tired and my back is sore from carrying you both with my two-run homer today.

Cody: Changed my mind. Don’t come out.

Travis: I’ll be running to your apartment to take a piss if this line at the bar doesn’t move a little quicker.

Cody: And I’ll be running to your place and pretending it’s mine when I bring someone home with me tonight. Make sure to clean up. I don’t want anyone thinking I’m a slob.

Me: The door will be locked for both of you.

Cody: I made myself a key.

Me: Cody, what the hell is wrong with you?

Travis: Cody has for sure fucked in your guest room FYI.

Cody: Not cool, Trav.

Kai: Annnnd this is why I keep the group chat on mute.

Travis: Multiple times, might I add.

Me: You’re changing the sheets next time you’re here and no more fucking at my place. And no more pretending it’s yours. You have your own apartment.

Cody: I have roommates. There’s nothing sexy about telling someone they have to be quiet because I have roommates.

Me: No more fucking at my place.

Travis: Someone should be fucking at your place. It’s practically a monastery these days.

The city bustles with Friday night liveliness just outside my apartment windows. The bars are packed, the streets are rowdy, and my entire team is out there somewhere enjoying the night off with a travel day tomorrow.

Well, everyone but my brother, who is home with his family. And me, who is here alone in this quiet apartment because going to bed early, knowing I’ll get to see my wife first thing tomorrow at the airport, sounds far more appealing than drinking with my buddies.

What the fuck am I doing?

It’s the question I’ve asked myself daily since this ring landed on my finger.

I’m in too deep, way too fucking deep, and I don’t know which way is up. I don’t want to know which way is up. I’m enjoying this little game Kennedy and I are playing, with her letting me treat her as if she were mine. Except my mind is starting to confuse the game with real life. Everything feels genuine to me, and I have no idea if that’s due to my own delusion, wishing it were, or if she feels it too.

And instead of drowning my worries with my friends, I’m the sad fucking sap who’s about to order a midnight pizza before going to bed by myself once again.

At least when I’m back home I get to sleep in a bed. That goddamn floor is going to be the death of me and my thirty-one-year-old back, but I refuse to sleep next to Kennedy until she asks me to in a way that’s not offering out of guilt. No more of the “you can sleep here if you want.” I need to hear her say she wants me to be there next to her.

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