Page 142 of The Third Baseman

His blue eyes bored through me as he stopped us on the other side of the tunnel, the side away from fans leaning over the railings for autographs. He stared, really stared, as though seeing me for the first time.

It was the way he’d stared at me that first day in Penn Shepherd’s office.

The way he stared as he helped me pick up my text books in the hallway after Josh Ridley knocked me over.

His fingers flattened out a crease on my t-shirt, tugging on the hem to straighten it, but it was like he was buying time, trying to believe I was really standing in front of him.

“I didn’t notice you. I thought Ace was being the dickhead he usually is, so I didn’t notice. I hadn’t wanted to look up and not see you there.”

I brushed my hand over his soft whiskers and cupped his cheek. “I know, but I’m here now, and I won’t miss another one.”

He took my palm, placing it to his lips. His breath was hot against them as he said, “I want to read what’s on your shirt.”

I stepped back, so he could. He read it over and over, until his eyes misted. “I fucking love you, Marn.”

“I know,” I pushed up on my tiptoes for a kiss, then reached into my back pocket and passed him a thick cream envelope, nodding for him to open it. “I want to show you something,”

He ripped the seal and unfolded the paper, pulling out four more behind it. His brow creased deeper the longer he continued to study it. “What is this?”

“Well…” I peered over the first page and pointed to a crudely drawn little box. “This here is the kitchen. See? There’s the kitchen table, and that’s the stove top you had fifty different pictures of.” I glanced up at him, but he still looked confused. “I’m not great at drawing, but I took inspiration from your Pinterest board.”

“But, Marn… what is it?”

My eyes flicked to his, and back to the paper. “It’s our house.”

It took a couple of seconds for him to blink. “You drew out our house?”

I searched his face like he was searching mine. It had taken half our lifetimes, but we’d finally found each other again. For good.

The knowledge of that, the weight of it in my chest was so overwhelming, it caught in my throat and spilled from the corner of my eyes.

“I love you, Jupiter. I love you so much. I’ve never stopped loving you, ever. In all these years, you’re the only one who’s ever truly owned my heart. I’m sorry I didn’t say it to you the other day, I was just scared; terrified, really,” I sniffed, “but you asked me what I wanted my future to look like, so I’m showing you. My future is our future. I see you and me, in this house, a home that we build together.”

He rolled his lips, chewing lightly on the bottom one. “What else does the house have?”

I smiled softly, wiping the back of my hand under my nose, and went back to it. “Okay, well, I like the way the kitchen wall at Emerson’s opened up into the back yard, so I added that here,” my finger passed over the pages, “but I made the pool closer to the house, because I thought it would be good to see the water from the window, and it would remind us of California.”

“What else?” he asked again, just like that day in my office, the day we started working together, which was the first day I knew for certain I’d fall in love with him again.

“Here’s where the playroom would be.”

His eyes shot up. “Playroom?”

“For our kids. I was thinking three, maybe four.”

His arms snuck around my waist, and rested just above my ass. “What about the observatory?”

“No changes. It’s perfect exactly how you described it.” I glanced up at him, my heart filled to the brim, which carried on and overflowed. If I looked down I’d be standing in a puddle of it; a puddle of my love, for Jupiter. “For real, Jupe, will you be my boyfriend?”

He smiled that smile again; the once-in-a-lifetime one which threatened to split his face. The one witnessed by millions today.

He didn’t sink into the kiss like I wanted him to, but I had the impression he’d rather not stick around by this wall on the other side of the tunnel.

“Yes, you bet your ass I will. Now let’s get the fuck out of here so I can start being your boyfriend the second we get home.” He took my hand and led me off. “Maybe in the car if you’re lucky.”

And that’s how we left the field, my hand in his as I was dragged off as quickly as he could drag me without dislocating my shoulder.

But I didn’t care because my hand was in my boyfriend’s hand, where it belonged.

---