Page 136 of Passed Ball

"You're really going to take credit for this for the rest of your life, aren't you?"

"Heck, yes I am."

"I added some of my own. Is that creepy?" I admit sheepishly. "Pictures he doesn't know I took of him and Holland."

"No, it's adorable, and he's going to love it," she says with a laugh. "Just like he loves you."

"Stop," I beg, slipping past her toward the nursery. She's pushing buttons that she knows make me uncomfy. The words have been right there, swirling around inside my brain all week, but Xavier's not home, leaving me with nothing to do but overthink if it's too soon to tell him.

The smell of Holland's baby wash and Xavier blend as I step into the room, settling around me.

Home.

I kneel on the carpet, pulling the frames from the bag and laying them out. A starry print that I ordered that night with Harlowe on the swing. Candid photos of Holland and Xavier. One of me--that one feels like the biggest risk, but for them I'll take the chance that I could end up looking like a fool. Because ready or not, I'm the fool who fell for the guy I was only supposed to be getting orgasms from.

Starting with the art print--a navy and teal swirl of ink depicting the star alignment from the day Holland was born, with Holland Áine Kingsley and her birth date beneath it--I arrange the rest of the pictures around it, hanging them above her changing table. When it's all done, I ball up the painter's tape and gather the small level and hammer I brought with me, admiring my work.

"Xavier's gonna love this," Tenley says softly from the doorway, her eyes lingering on the art. "Going to Spain, knowing you're here with them, happy and fulfilled, is going to be so much easier now."

"Let me put her down and we can have a glass of wine and watch the game."

"I'm not going to have a job to come back to, am I?"

"Oh no, you will. I love her, but I've got a job that I love. And Xavier's got baseball. We'll need the help."

Chapter 60

Xavier

I've never understood self-proclaimed masochists who claim to enjoy emotional pain. Maybe it's because I've already felt enough of it in my life to last a lifetime.

Yet here I am, standing in my daughter's room, looking at a wall with tears in my eyes. My gaze falls to the pictures she hung in the nursery for Holland. The art print of the star she had named after her, which feels even more meaningful after our day together at the planetarium. There's a note tucked under the corner of one of the frames--he one with Holland and I sleeping together in bed that's months old.

I reach for it, flipping it over in my hand before I open it. I don't know what's inside, but it feels momentous.

The paper is rough as my finger slides underneath the seal of the envelope. But the words on the paper are so fucking soft for a woman that doesn't show much vulnerability. She really outdid herself.

I see you too.

She's giving me something I didn't even know I needed--something I haven't had since my mom died. A small, quiet gesture to let me know she's choosing us. Kristy always pushed, demanding something from me, while my dad never made me a priority. But Vivienne? She's here, offering me all of her with no conditions. Without even realizing it, she's healing parts of me I forgot were broken long ago.

We're home for our last two games of the World Series, and win or lose, the season is almost over. And no matter what happens on that field, I'm telling Vivi exactly how I feel.

Xavier:

Your seats are right next to the girls.

Security will be ready to get you guys

out onto the field or down to the locker

room after. See you soon.

Vivienne:

Why am I so nervous? Are you nervous?

Xavier:

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