Page 4 of Mom Ball

“I’m sure this man is busy.”

“It’s Nate.” I mean to clarify that to the kids, but it comes out a little sarcastically toward Brooke. Having the love of your life refer to you as “this man” is about as low of a blow as it gets.

Well, she was the love of my life. But I haven’t exactly tried to fall in love again. Obviously, she’s moved on, so I best let it go.

“I’m sure Nate is busy.” Brooke’s throat catches on my name like it hurts her to say it.

“Dude! I knew you looked familiar. You’re Nate the Great, aren’t you?” The older boy comes uncomfortably close and studies my face.

All the boys stare at me like I’m on exhibit at the zoo.

“Who’s Nate the Great?” Brooke’s son asks.

One of the younger boys pops him on the arm.

“He plays for the Braves,” the other answers.

The older boy sticks out his hand. “Ethan Archer, nice to meet you.”

“You as well.” I shake his hand and smile. “And who else do we have here?”

“That’s Andrew.” He points to the smallest kid. “That’s Carter.” He points to the slightly larger kid. “And Timothy.” He nods toward Brooke’s son.

I commit the boys’ names to memory. In particular Timothy’s. Was he named after his dad?

“Can we do ball with him, Mama?” he asks.

“I’m sure Mr. Nate is busy.” She presses her lips tightly.

I glory a split second in the fact that she said my name effortlessly this time.

“I was about to cut the grass, but it can wait.”

Brooke cocks her head toward the pasture.

“Not that, over here. I bought this house.”

Her eyes widen to the point that some of her face goop cracks. A piece of her hair sticks to it.

I lift my hand to push it away from her face, then freeze. Instead, I readjust my cap to make it look as if I never intended to touch her. Holding her hand was hard enough. I might not can control myself if I get near her face.

“Timothy, it’s play ball, not do ball.” Ethan rolls his eyes, then he smirks at me. “Kids, huh?”

I narrow my eyes, and his face straightens. Andrew and Carter are over my stardom and now preoccupied with poking a worm in the road. I watch them a second more, then focus on Brooke. “If it’s fine with you, I’d be happy to help your boys with ball sometime.”

“I only have the one boy,” she answers quickly.

I laugh nervously. An odd sense of relief covers me. Instead of hiding a slew of kids from me, Brooke only has one. And possibly a husband or ex-husband.

I try not to focus on the ex part. She chose to end our relationship when she was in college. If she is single, I doubt a chance meeting in a pasture almost nine years later would magically change her mind.

“Okay. If everyone’s parents are all right with it, I’d be glad to help.”

“My mom won’t care,” Ethan says. “Unless you charge a bunch.”

I laugh. “It’s on the house.”

He smiles.

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