Page 28 of If We Never Met

Apparently, Keira had also had a golden retriever named Dusty, and they bonded even more over stories about their dogs. She mentioned that she and her mom still occasionally thought about getting another puppy, but that was just one more job that she probably didn't have time for. He, of course, had never considered getting a pet, because he was on the road too much, but talking about Rosie made him realize that having a dog was something he'd missed. Having a laser focus on baseball had made him tremendously successful, but in some ways, it had kept his world very narrow.

As they finished their meal, they headed back to the buffet table to admire the cake. It featured a stage and a woman in a beautiful dress holding an award. Apparently, the woman was Chelsea, and the dress was a copy of what Keira had designed. Several photos were taken of the cake before it was cut, and it struck him that it was the first time he'd seen anyone take a picture of food since he'd arrived in Whisper Lake. Whereas when he was in his real life, and especially when he was with Nikki, there were more photographs taken of the food they ordered than actual bites.

Of course, Nikki had to stay thin for her job, but she also looked at food as a photo op more than a pleasure or even a necessary sustenance. In fact, most of what they did was designed to provide a good post for one of her social media channels. He couldn't fault her for working her business, but sometimes he felt like a prop.

In fact, hanging out with Keira and her friends reminded him of when he was young, when he hadn't been a celebrity or a superstar, when his friends had felt more real. Back then, his friends weren't with him because he was picking up the tab or because he had connections. They were just friends.

"Okay, it's just about show time," Lizzie announced. "Get your dessert, coffee, whatever you need. The red carpet starts in a few minutes, and we need to see Chelsea in Keira's dress."

They took their cake into the living room. Keira had a seat of honor on the couch in front of the television, and he ended up next to her. As Hannah and Jake squeezed in, he found himself very close to Keira, so close he could smell the scent of her perfume, and every nerve in his body tingled.

"There's Chelsea," Lizzie said, waving her hand toward the TV.

He directed his attention to the screen. A stunning dark-blonde woman showed off a strapless gown, which seemed like a stunning cloud of turquoise and silver, the front shorter than the back, revealing a pair of what looked like diamond-studded boots.

"She looks amazing," Hannah said. "You got her exactly right, Keira."

"You did," Lizzie put in, others murmuring their agreement.

"I wanted her to be her bohemian self but also kind of fancy," Keira said. "But she's so beautiful, she looks good in anything. I just hope she wins."

"Well, her award won't be coming up for at least thirty minutes," Lizzie said. "We'll have to wait on that."

"I'm going to get another margarita," Keira said, getting to her feet.

"I'll join you." He was eager to get off the couch. He couldn't care less about the red carpet. It reminded him of Nikki, and he didn't want to think about her.

They moved to the bar and filled their glasses, and then Keira led him through the dining room and out the door to the patio, where white lights twinkled through the trees surrounding several tables and a fountain. Everyone was inside the inn, so they had the patio to themselves. They took a seat. It was a warm night, perfect to be outside.

Keira took a long sip of her margarita. "I feel so weird being the center of attention, everyone making such a big deal about a dress I designed. It's Chelsea's night, not mine."

"It can be about both of you."

"I guess, but I'm not big on being in the spotlight." She gave him a thoughtful look. "I bet you love the spotlight."

"You'd win that bet. Thirty thousand screaming fans, bottom of the ninth, two outs, one more batter to strike out for the win. That's the moment I live for."

"That sounds incredibly stressful."

"That's the best part of it."

"How do you stay calm enough to throw your best pitch?"

"I breathe deep. I shut out everything else in my head. It's just me and the hitter. It's a battle between the two of us. I want to get him out. He wants to hit a home run. Only one of us will come close to what we want."

"How many of those moments have you had?"

"A lot."

"Does one in particular stand out?"

"Yes. Last year in the final game of the World Series. I was the starting pitcher, and I was pitching a no-hitter, so the coach let me keep going past where he'd normally bring in a reliever. It was going to be the last game of the season. I'd have plenty of time to rest, and I wanted to pitch the whole game. We went into the ninth inning with a one-zero lead. I struck the first two batters out. But the third batter got on base with an error by the second baseman. On the next pitch, he stole a base. I lost my concentration for a split second, and I threw a wild pitch. That moved the runner to third. I had a full count. One more pitch. I could walk him. And it wouldn't be the end of the world. I could get the next guy. But I wanted to end it right there."

"What happened?" she asked, completely caught up in his story.

He could remember the moment so clearly, the feeling of purpose followed by triumph. "I struck him out. We won the World Series. It was the greatest moment of my life. My teammates were jumping on me. Fireworks were going off, or maybe that was just in my head. It was everything I ever dreamed of."

"Wow. That must have been an incredible feeling. I had no idea your team won the World Series, or that you pitched the final game and got the win. You really are a superstar, aren't you?"

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