Page 6 of The Love We Make

Not me.

I shook my head no and crossed my arms in the air to get my point across. I was done with her girl games.

But 15 minutes later, I was pronouncing her and her imaginary boyfriend, "Man and Wife.” Because like I said before, I would do anything to make her happy.

After that, her parents got home and I had to walk her home for the night—which was only across the street. Mom liked me to be a gentleman and walk her home, though. So I did. Plus, it gave us more time to talk.

“You know, one day I am going to be a famous baseball player,” I said, tossing a baseball from one hand to the other as we walked.

“I bet you are!” She said excitedly. “And then I will be your biggest fan ever.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah, silly. I just think you need to be a pitcher.”

I shrugged, “Will you come to all my games?”

“Of course, I will,” she said it like it was a no-brainer. But then she added, “Unless it’s hot. I hate sweating.”

I just rolled my eyes.Girls.

“What about you? What do you want to be when you grow up?”

She thought about it for a minute and then sighed.

“I don’t know what I want to be. But I do know I am going to fall in love and get married and have three kids. That is all I really want.”

Madison always talked about wanting to be a mom and wanting to be in love.

It was gross.

“Just don’t marry Joey,” he was in our class and had a huge crush on Madison.

I hated him.

“I will if he is sweet and treats me right and loves me,” she huffed.

“And I will punch him,” I added.

“And mess up your pitching hand?”

“It will be worth it. Plus, I amnota pitcher.”

“You will be one day. And I will make sure you never hurt your hand.”

“And I will make sure you get whatever you want, whatever makes you happy. Even if it is something stupid, like love.”

Chapter 4

Madison

It was way too hot to be at a baseball game. Sunday afternoons were for binging TV and drinking coffee. Only for Ethan would I leave my coveted couch on days like this.

I sat alone in the seat he had arranged for me. The same seat I always sat in when I went to his games—right by the home team dugout. Being best friends with the “Ace” paid off sometimes. People would’ve killed for that seat. If I leaned up just a little, I could see into the dugout and all the players as they sat on the benches.

But I didn’t budge. Not even an inch.

I couldn't.

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