Page 43 of Strike Zone

“And you wonder why you haven’t found a woman to settle down with yet. Could it be your maturity level?”

“You love me. I’m sure there are plenty of women out there who have the same kindergarten maturity level that you do. Don’t be so down on yourself, Anders.” I snigger as I take a long swig of my drink. Maybe it’s a bad idea to go to Diana’s parents’ house this weekend, but I miss her. I admit it—I’m a sad schmuck of a man, and I crave her with every fiber of my being. If there’s even the slightest chance I can get a second chance with her, I want it.

* * *

The drive up here has been an episode of insanity—a lonely kind of crazy. Anders and Brooke drove up earlier today with Diana, but I figured that wasn’t a good way to start the weekend, and I had a few things to do before heading up there.

I’ve gone through every possible scenario. Her being less than happy to see me. That one grew arms and legs, playing out in ten different ways, all of which came to the same conclusion, and it wasn’t good for my balls.

Then, there was the possibility we make peace and become friends, or at least amicable acquaintances. That may be enough for her, but even as a hypothetical, it leaves a sour taste in my mouth. I know I’d always want more from her.

Finally, there’s the fairy-tale Disney outcome. I’m not going to lie, this is my favorite. It gets me all the sex and happiness I can handle. I appear in the Hamptons with the charm and good looks God saw fit to bestow on me, Diana can’t resist, and finally admits she wants me just as much as I want her—and they lived happily ever after.

Pulling up at the address Anders texted me this morning, I realize Brooke and Diana didn’t exactly have to pull themselves up by their bootstraps to get where they are today. It doesn’t lessen their achievements at all, but observing the difference in our childhood experiences is a little intimidating. The Hamptons is a far cry from the trailer Anders had the pleasure of visiting with me the week after our World Series win.

I’ve never been the woe-is-me guy, which is why I don’t really tell people about my journey to the major league. Everyone’s path is different, but we all ended up on the same team and worked our asses off to get there. I’m not better or worse than anyone else because I ate shit microwave dinners for one most of the time, and my mom’s idea of a nanny was handing me the television remote.

I have multi-million-dollar contracts and endorsements, and I live in a very nice penthouse in Manhattan, but I’m still a little intimidated as I sit in the driveway staring out at the mansion before me. The Lexington family is obviously, extremely wealthy. I take a few minutes to gather my thoughts before grabbing my overnight bag from the trunk and the bottle of single malt I brought for Mr. Lexington.

There’s a vintage-looking knocker on the door which is heavy as I take it in my hand, rapping it three times before standing back, half expecting some Lurch butler to welcome me in. I’m surprised when Brooke’s mom opens the door.

“Lincoln! I’m so glad you could join us.”

“Hello, Mrs. Lexington. Thanks for having me. It’s a pleasure to be here.”

She ushers me inside, the smell of home cooking wafting through the foyer. “None of this Mrs. Lexington nonsense. Call me Martha. You’re practically Anders’ brother so that makes you family.”

“I’m good with that.”

“You’ve got perfect timing. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Is there somewhere I can put my bag out of the way?”

“Of course. Of course. Upstairs. First door on the left. There are fresh towels in the bathroom. If you need anything, don’t be afraid to ask.”

“Thank you.”

She pats my shoulder in what I believe would be a very motherly way, and I find it comforting. “Sweet boy.”

“Can I do anything to help when I come back down?”

“You’re here to relax. Everyone is in the living room when you’re ready. Just follow the sound of Brooke and Diana bickering about God knows what.”

“Will do.” Knowing that she’s a few feet away has my pulse racing. Fuck, I’ve turned into a teenage chick. Before I come back down, I better check I’m not growing tits, and my cock hasn’t been replaced by a pretty pink pussy.

As I thought, the room is bigger than the trailer I grew up in, and the bathroom is on a par with the one I have in my apartment. Martha has impeccable taste, but that doesn’t surprise me. Both her daughters are beautiful and know how to dress to impress. There’s a difference between wearing something expensive for the sake of it and knowing how to wear something simple and elevate it in an elegant way. Diana doesn’t see herself as elegant, but I do.

I grab the bottle of single malt from my bag, take a deep breath, and head downstairs. I’m hoping Mr. Lexington wants a drink tonight because I think I’m going to need one. The last time I saw Diana, it didn’t go so well. I can only imagine her reaction when she found out I was crashing the family party.

“Hello! Fear not, the life and soul of the party has arrived.” Anders and Brooke spring to their feet to greet me, followed by Mr. Lexington.

“Welcome to our humble abode, young man. Glad to have you.”

“Thank you, sir. I brought you a small gift for letting me come along to celebrate Anders this weekend.” His eyes light up at the sight of the label.

“A man who knows his whiskey. I like you already. Would you like a glass?”

“I wouldn’t say no.”

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