Page 163 of Through the Water

“Oh, good,” she crowed, crossing the room to climb onto the bed beside me. “She was looking entirely too pure for my taste, dear. Now, are you ready for tonight?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m convinced the only thing that would make it better would be if my girl was here.”

“Well, the Lord works in mysterious ways,” she mused aloud with a wide grin. “Maybe toss up an extra prayer or two before your game.”

I discreetly elbowed her side and rushed out, “Oh, do you hear that? Someone’s at the door. We have to go now. I love you.”

Killian’s eyes narrowed, inspecting me. “I love you too—can you call me back? I’d like to continue our conversation.”

“I’ll try! Okay, I love you. Bye!” I ended the call and turned to the older woman. “What the hell are you doing, Georgia?”

She studied her painted nails with a shrug. “You’ve been in the same city as that boy for over a month now. You’ve attended every single post-season game—home and away—why won’t you tell him already?”

“Because I don’t like the media circus that pops up when the two of us are together,” I barked, crossing my arms over my chest. “He’s been in a hitting streak for the last thirty-six games, for crying out loud! Do you know how big of a deal this is? I don’t want to be the reason that comes to an end. Nothing can jinx tonight for him. Once the game is won, then I’ll reveal everything.”

“I’m ready!” Morgan entered the room and twirled as if she was wearing a ball gown, not a baseball jersey. “Do you like it? Joe picked it up for me.”

I blinked, masking my surprise. My former stepmother had traveled all over the world with us but was back to being afraid of her own shadow now that we were home. “Seriously? You’re going tonight?”

“I am. This is important to you, Ari, and if you can go out in public without being recognized, I can too.” She looked down at the jersey, color rising on her cheeks. “Although I need to be honest. I don’t know a single player, other than Killian.”

Her small act of bravery made me smile. “That’s okay.”

“Not to worry, dear. I’ve already made a list of potential love interests for you and ranked them,” Georgia said, beaming like she’d just solved the world’s hunger problem.

I gave her a side-eye. “That’s what you’ve been doing during the games? I thought you were keeping score.”

“Oh, I am. Just in my own way. Now, Morgan—” She slipped off the bed and shuffled toward the door. “Do you want the top five now, or would you like to get a feel for all of them first?”

Morgan’s wide eyes met mine in a universal signal for help. “Um, maybe I’ll, um, just decide when we get there. Is that okay?”

“Perfectly okay, dear. Oh, Ari—” Georgia snapped her fingers as she turned back to me. “I knew I came in here for a reason. I need to know, are you going to be having your usual for brunch—egg white omelet and veggies?”

“Yep. Breakfast of champions.” I didn’t understand why champions shunned the tastiest part of the egg in favor of white rubber but had somehow forced it down every morning for the past month.

Her lips curved into a patient smile. “Mmm, hmmm… and the jersey hanging up in my laundry room was washed at exactly midnight, I presume?”

I bristled with defensiveness. “Maybe—what are you getting at?”

“Oh, nothing.” Georgia waved her hand as if shooing my question away. “Just curious. Those baseball players—so superstitious, you know?”

She began cackling when my mouth fell open before slipping out and closing the bedroom door behind her.

The septuagenarian had some snap in her garters.

So, maybe I’d picked up a few habits from Killian over the past couple of years. We’d overcome so much to get here, and I was willing to do whatever it took to keep their winning streak alive, including following the same meal plan and schedule he was.

No matter how much I hated it.

A little superstition never hurt anyone.

Well, within reason.

I wasn’t giving up my razor for anything.

* * *

“And now, first baseman, number thirty-four—Conor Bailey!”

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