Page 90 of The Third Baseman

“Yeah.” I zoomed forward into the next block of traffic. One more block and I could turn off. “I made her cry.”

I heard her suck in a breath. “How?”

“Emerson, I really don’t want to talk about it. I want to go home, drink a bottle of whiskey, and wake up next year.”

The home part would happen, but the rest would be followed with hot tea, and tomorrow, which made me even more depressed.

“Okay. You know where Drew is if you wanna talk about it guy to guy.”

“Thanks. I don’t.”

“Let’s hope Marnie is somewhere as miserable as you are then, you grouchy fuck!” a deep voice called out in the background. There’s a thought. My chest flickered with… hope, maybe, but it died before I could figure it out. “And you’d better be smiling when you come here next week.”

Confusion and poor calendar management pulled me from under my cloud again, though the lightning strike at that exact moment reminded me it would only be temporary. “What’s next week?”

“The twins’ birthday. You said you had a free day and you said you’re coming over to help with balloons. You promised.” Drew had gotten nearer the phone, so near I could picture exactly what I’d said and when I’d said it – right after Opening Day when we’d beaten the Yankees, and I’d seen Marnie for the first time in fourteen years.

That’s what happened when you were on a high. You promised shit you’d then come to regret.

“Haven’t you got nannies for that?” I grumbled.

“Reeves, this is your niece and nephews…”

I held in the groan. Still, I did kind of like Emerson’s kids. They were pretty cute, and funny.

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” The car in front moved forward, giving me an out of this call. “I need to go, I’m nearly home.”

“Bye, love you. Try to cheer up.”

I hung up without saying goodbye. There was almost enough space in the traffic that I could inch through and take my left, even if it did mean I was hopping the corner of the sidewalk.

Fuck it, the sidewalk was empty. Everyone was out of the rain, where I would soon be.

It took less than five minutes for me to pull into my space in the underground parking garage, and get in the elevator to my apartment. Because I had zero self-discipline, I checked my cell as I got in.

My head fell back as I slumped against the stainless steel.

My new friend had not messaged me. I didn’t think she’d come running after I’d left her by the tree, but I thought she might have sent me something, anything.

Fucking friends.

Fourteen years I’d trained myself to function without her.

Now less than a month in, and I could barely get through an afternoon. I was a notebook away from drawing hearts around her name while I listened to Adele on repeat and tried to be patient.

I laughed to myself. Jupiter Reeves and patient are not two words commonly found together, but the thought did help me feel a little better.

I was still laughing as the elevator dinged and the doors opened.

The smile might have frozen on my lips, but every other part of my body heated up, and my heart bounced around like an excited puppy. My black mood vanished instantly; and if it was daylight, I swear the sun would be shining if I looked out the window.

No more rain.

Because unless it was an apparition, Marnie Matthews was sitting on the floor outside my apartment, dripping wet.

“Marn?”

She looked up as she heard me, scrambling to her feet with a soft smile. “Hey.”

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