Page 269 of Dark Love

“Nope. Dad notified them when he heard. But they wouldn’t come anyway unless they were called by someone in my family.”

Not scary mobster vibes at all.

Another man joins us. He isn’t close to the other guys in size—No! It can’t be. “I’m seeing things. Someone pinch me.” My eyes have to be playing tricks on me. He can’t be here. It’s impossible. Absolutely impossible.

“Hope, something’s wrong with your friend.” Gabe places a hand on mine. “Do you need a doctor?”

“Just an optometrist. I’m seeing a person that can’t be real. Tell me he’s not here.”

“Who? Ollie? You can’t be fangirling over Ollie.”

Gabe just called Oliver Schoolers, the best shortstop in the world, OLLIE. “He’s really here?”

“Hope, why didn’t you tell me your friends have bad taste? Who passes out for a baseball player?”

WHAT? I spin around to scowl at Gabe. “’A’ player. You didn’t just say that about Oliver Schoolers, the best shortstop in the world. He’s—”

“Ollie, get over here and say hi before this woman attacks me.” Gabe gives my hand a pat and whispers, “You’ll be okay. Ollie is a nice guy.”

My heart might stop beating, but I’ll be okay.

“Hey.”

If Vex wouldn’t be mad at me, I could die happy right here and right now. Oliver Schoolers said hi to me.

“Don’t worry, she’ll figure out how to speak soon. It seems Hope’s friend is confused about which sport is the better sport.”

Oliver Schoolers takes a seat, placing his full plate down. There are two cookies on the top. He’s going to eat cookies I made. Would he marry me if I made him a brownie cheesecake? Vex would understand because it’s the Oliver Schoolers.

Vex would not understand. He would probably kill Oliver.

Poor dead Oliver.

“Obviously, it’s baseball or you wouldn’t be jealous enough to play a game with us.”

“That’s because you baseball players are afraid to play football. You might get hurt.” Gabe hi-fives a few of the guys standing around.

“Tell me that when a baseball comes flying towards your head at around one hundred miles per hour.”

Stop. Fangirling. Think. Form words. I haven’t passed out so far. That’s something, at least.

The men chuckle like that’s nothing at all. They start ribbing each other about football vs baseball and I tune them out.

There has got to be something intelligent that I can say.

“Mmmmmmmm. This cookie might be better than my mother’s.” Oliver stares at the cookie in his hand. “Don’t tell her that. Or maybe I’ll tell her that while I’m explaining why I just got married. Someone point me in the direction of the magnificent woman who made these. I think I’m in love.”

“That would be the woman sitting next to me staring at you like the sun rises because you requested it.” Gabe nudges me.

Thanks. That really helps. Now he’s staring at me and any hope of speech leaves my brain.

“What’s your name beautiful, so that I can arrange for our marriage license?” Oliver leans forward, placing an elbow on the table and resting his head on his hands.

Name?

Name?

You have a name.

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