Page 124 of Mom Ball

“I said you two were made for each other. You need to talk.”

“Cliché as it sounds, it’s complicated. I can’t go over there with Timothy home. He’ll want to go, and then it will be awkward.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. He’s going back tonight. He said he didn’t want to make church weird for you.”

I drop my feet to the floor and toss my head back against the couch.

“It will all work out.”

“Don’t put false hope in my head, Aniston.”

“I’m not, but it will. Take me, for example.” She sits taller and runs her hand down her side like Vanna White presenting a letter. “Would you have ever pictured me living in Apple Cart, engaged to a doctor, raising two kids?”

“No, not at all.”

“Yet here I am.”

“And when we were in high school, where would you have pictured me in ten years?”

She shrugs. “Living on this farm, married to Nate.”

“Exactly.” I shove a finger toward her face. “So what makes you think it will happen that way for me?”

“Because as weird as this sounds, I believe in fairy tales and happy endings. Even though Jennifer’s life was cut short, she got a fairy tale with Luke. I don’t deserve Easton, but I have a fairy tale with him. If anyone deserves a fairy tale, it’s you, Brooke Marshall. You’ve always been a kind and hardworking person, and you deserve to be with Nate.”

Tears fill my eyes. I sniffle. “I thought you hated me in high school.”

“I kinda did.” She scrunches her nose. “But I hated everyone who was happy and had both their parents. That was my own hang-up. You were always nice to everyone, and you and Nate had something special.”

“So many times, I wanted to tell him.” I sigh and wipe my tears. “Then he got moved to the majors, and finally he got to start games. Every time I came close, his career advanced. I couldn’t risk ruining everything he’d worked for.”

She scoots closer and rubs my arm. “I’m sure it would’ve been fine.”

I shrug.

“There’s never a good time to give life-altering news. It’s best to just get it out in the open quickly, like ripping off a Band-Aid.” She mimics ripping one from her leg. It’s so dramatic, I flinch.

“Well, I did tell him . . . finally. And now the ball’s in his court—or on his field might be the better metaphor.”

Aniston moves a pillow off her and twists toward me. “The man loves you, and he’ll be back. He had to go to back to Florida anyway, so it’s not like he’s leaving you.”

“But what if he decides to never come back here? What if all this is too much, and it’s easier for him to go back to life without us?”

She laughs. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

“But Timothy doesn’t yet know, so it would be the easiest option.” I tilt my head and frown.

“Honey, if we took the easiest option, not a one of us would be dealing with Little League right now.”

I sigh. “True.”

Aniston stands, then pats me on the head. “Are you going to be okay if I leave?”

I nod. “I have Timothy.”

My throat closes on the last syllable of his name. I do have Timothy, as well as my family. I know I have Morgan and Aniston, and any number of people in town, at work, and from church too.

That had always been enough for me. Until now.

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