Page 82 of Passed Ball

Xavier's tongue darts out, making a hypnotizing sweep over his lips--enough to have me leaning closer, only to stop when, without warning, soft music filters in, surrounding us. I pull back, watching as the lights on the floor go out and the stars above us flicker to life. Holland coos like this show is all for her.

I lean back on my elbows, taking it in. "I can see why you like it here. It's peaceful."

"The guys give me a hard time about how much time I spend looking at fake stars, but the first time I came here it helped me dull the noise." He turns his head to face me, and I think it's the calmest I've ever seen those bright eyes. "When I'm here, I can sort things out in my head better."

"Is there a show, or just . . ." I gesture to the ceiling.

"No narration today. Just us and the stars."

"Is this a silent show, or are we allowed to talk?"

"We're allowed to do anything you want."

"Oh, the possibilities." I laugh.

"Well, almost anything. We should probably keep it PG with our little chaperone here." He nods to his daughter, who's happily kicking her feet between us.

"She's so good. Cade was a nightmare when he was a baby." The memory of my nephew's constant cries are still vivid all these years later. "Hehatedbeing set down."

"On top of everything else . . ." He blows out a breath, his expression softening. "I can't imagine how difficult it was on everyone."

I shift to one elbow, facing Xavier. "He was only a baby and his mom was gone. Everyone did the best they could."

"Did they really?" he asks, gently, not accusing, as he brushes a strand of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. "I'm not blaming anyone, but . . . it sounds like they could have done a better job of seeing your pain."

"My pain wasn't important." For years I've reflexively used the same explanation to defend my family, but right now, with Xavier listening, it feels cheap.

His brows knit together and he leans closer. "I'm not saying your pain should've been the focus in the aftermath of losing Erica. But at some point, someone should have stopped to make sure you were okay, instead of moving on and forgetting that you were a little girl who lost someone you loved too."

Overwhelming grief chokes me, my throat thick. No one, besides Harlowe, has ever seen the burden I've carried for so long, so clearly. But this man, who's not supposed to mean as much as he does to me, understands it completely.

"It was unfair to put the weight of that loss on you."

"It was," I admit.

"Pain like that is a little like the birth of a star," he says, pointing to the twinkling stars above us.

"This sounds very philosophical." I hum thoughtfully.

"It is. Stars don't appear out of nowhere. Their birth is a long, chaotic process. First, there's a collapse--gas and dust imploding under its own gravity. Then, to become a real star, the core has to burn at ten million degrees. It takes millions of years to find its equilibrium."

"That does sound traumatic," I comment.

He nods seriously. "And even after that, the star isn't fully formed. It has to blow away the dust and debris from its birth. Only then can it shine freely. I think people are the same way. After we go through something devastating, we collapse inward, and it takes time and effort to clear away what broke us. But when we do, that's when we find our light again."

"Never change, Xavier," I say, leaning forward, cautious of waking Holland who's now sleeping between us, and kissing him.

"Because you like me?" he asks, his lips moving against mine.

"Mhmmm . . . I like the way you always surprise me."

"Good. I like keeping you on your toes." He reaches for a mini calzone and holds the bite-sized snack between us. The savory scent surrounds me and I know without asking--it's from Nonna's.

"You also seem to have an obsession with feeding me." I open my mouth, and when the savory sauce hits my taste buds I groan. It's so damn delicious.

"Can you blame me? The noises you make . . . you make it damn hard to keep things PG."

"Tell me more about the stars," I say.

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