Page 5 of Passed Ball

In two weeks, I have to return to playing baseball with no help in sight now that her mother is MIA. It's not how I envisioned my season going, but I wouldn't give this up for anything.

Cactus league games have already started, and while most of my teammates are exhausted from readjusting to the pace of the season, I'm wiped out from late night feedings and being on constant alert since Holland came home.

I let my eyelids fall closed for a minute. Just to rest them.

A soft knock at the door has them popping open as I practically jump, startling Holland. "Shh . . . It's okay, Áine."

I settle my daughter against my chest, murmuring her middle name--the same as my mom's. Irish for radiance. As I gently bounce her, I shuffle through the house toward the door and open it.

At first, all I see are the stacks of neatly wrapped boxes, Tupperware containers, and four sets of legs sticking out from the bottom of the pile of gifts on the other side of the door. They shuffle a few things around, revealing Poppy's long red braid and Indie's wild curls.

"Can we come in and set all this down so we can meet her properly?" Mia asks, peering around a pink gift bag which is starting to slide off the casserole dish she's balancing it on. My catcher's reflexes kick in, and I grab it before it hits the floor. "And that's why they pay you the big bucks."

"Come on in," I say, stepping out of the way. My teammates' significant others step through the door, a blur of energy and excitement. It makes me want a nap.

Lilah breezes past me, her growing baby bump leading the way to the kitchen. "There are energy bites in here." She holds up a bakery box for a split second before she shelves it in the fridge. "These are breakfast sandwiches--you can reheat them as needed. And this . . ."

"Is your vanilla cold brew?" My mouth waters at the sight of the Buns & Roses to-go carafe fit for a construction crew . . . or a newly minted single dad.

"It is. All for you," Lilah confirms sweetly.

"You're my favorite, don't tell the others," I whisper, conspiratorially.

Poppy drops her gifts on the counter and then joins her friend at the fridge. "Continuing the food parade, this is a spaghetti bake that you can pop in the oven, and Indie brought prepped, chicken fajitas bowls," Hendrix's fiancée says as she passes the food to Lilah. Each dish follows the last, filling the empty space.

"And I made Dean's favorite chicken tortilla soup," Mia says, setting down the rest of the food. "Oh, and he picked out our present. He said having a baby isn't an excuse to skip leg day. It's a baby carrier and an infant insert."

"Harsh." Indie laughs. "He really is only nice to you, isn't he?"

"Don't worry, I withheld phone sex on your behalf. You deserve a few weeks without worrying about workouts to care for this little cutie."

"Mhmm. I'm glad I'm not there to deal with his cranky ass."

It dawns on me that this is only the second conversation I've had with someone who can talk back to me in two days.

The only other being a brief phone call with my friend Edward, but that call was cut short when I had to change a diaper. He had called to check in after I sent him a picture of Holland. The older man befriended me when he found me wandering around the planetarium he works at. I was overwhelmed after finding out about the pregnancy and he listened. We've kept in touch since. But we talked yesterday, which means that, until five minutes ago, I hadn't talked to another adult today.

"He tried to cover his ass when he realized what an asinine comment it was." Mia blushes, her cheeks going pink when she mumbles, "But holding out on him is more fun . . . for both of us."

"I don't need details, Mia," I say.

Sex hasn't been on my radar since the last time Kristy and I slept together, back in July. Sex and relationships--anything that doesn't involve baseball or my baby--is not a priority.

Right now, my priority is figuring out how to do this alone, and what's next. My lawyer's advice: file for full custody to protect myself and my daughter in the event Kristy shows back up. He also let me know that the lovely state of Colorado requires a walk-away parent to be absent for a significant amount of time before the primary parent can be granted full custody. But, fun fact, there's no amount of time specified before it's considered abandonment. I guess the courts work off whims, just like my ex.

If, at the six-month mark Kristy hasn't shown back up, the court willprobablyconsider that a sufficient amount of time to petition for termination of parental rights.

So now, on top of everything else, I have to prepare for the possibility that I'll be going to court soon.

Yeah, sex and relationships are the least of my worries.

A throat clears, dragging me out of my thoughts. "I don't mean to be an asshole, I'd rather leave that title to Dean, but why don't you give me sweet little Holland and go shower? You stink, and I'm pretty sure you were just sleeping standing up," Poppy says, stopping in front of me, nose wrinkled, hands out, and green eyes glued to my daughter.

"Do not," I argue weakly. She might be right about me sleeping standing up though.

Unfortunately, when I dip my nose towards my pits, the smell rudely wakes me the hell up. I hand over my sleeping daughter to the strong-willed women converging on me. All four of them soften to puddles at the sight of Holland bringing her fist to her face as I pass her to Poppy.

"You really do. But it's okay, you've got us. Go shower and I'll heat up some food for you." Lilah runs her thumb over the back of Holland's tiny fist. "Poor girl, he had your cute little nose right by those nasty pits. We're lucky it didn't shrivel off," she croons.

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