Page 93 of First Love, Second Draft

“We are not friends,” he whispered next to her ear, dropping a trail of kisses down her jawline and back to her lips for another long taste before murmuring against them. “And that’s why things will always be complicated between us. We were lovers, Gracie.” Another kiss. “Husband and wife.” More kisses. “We shared a bed. A life. And I thought we shared the same dream for a family, whatever that endedup looking like. Whether that meant a dozen kids or just you and me, at the end of the day that was all I ever wanted.”

Before she got lost in his lips again, she palmed his chest and pushed him a fraction back. “Then why didn’t you fight for it?” He froze long enough for her to shove him further away. “You talked about your dad not fighting for his family, why didn’t you fight for yours? Why didn’t you fight as hard for us as you did for any of your baseball games?”

“I didn’t know how to. That doesn’t mean I didn’t want to. C’mon, Grace. Give me another chance to figure it out. Give us another chance to figure it out.”

But what if they still didn’t figure it out? What if their marriage still fell apart?

She pushed Noah further way. No. She couldn’t go through that again.

She needed space. She couldn’t think with his body pressed flush against hers. Definitely couldn’t think when he kissed her. She needed him to go away.

When her phone started ringing in her coat pocket, she couldn’t get to it fast enough. She didn’t care if it was a call about extending her car warranty, she was answering and staying on the line the entire drive home.

Mona’s name flashed on the screen.

“Hello?” Gracie said, relieved Noah had stepped back, giving her a little breathing room.

But it sounded like her sister was the one who needed help in the breathing department. “Mona, what’s wrong?” All Gracie could hear was her hyperventilating into the phone. “Is it Dad?”

Please don’t be Dad.

Gracie reached for Noah, already needing him back in her space again. His hand settled on her lower back. Solid. Steady.

“Mona, say something!”

Strangled words finally broke through all the panting. “Matt and Rachel are getting married.In a week!”

55

Noah couldn’t tell if he’d made any progress with Gracie or not. While it certainly felt like progress when their lips were all over each other in St. Louis five nights ago, Gracie had been so wrapped up in helping Mona plan for Matt’s wedding ever since that she’d barely had time to speak to Noah, let alone engage in further heart-to-heart discussions about their marriage.

Personally, Noah would’ve settled for a short lip-on-lip session if she didn’t have time for a heart-to-heart, but it seemed Gracie was too busy even for that.

At least that’s what Noah kept telling himself. Loudly. Especially when his other inner voice tried suggesting that Gracie was just avoiding him, plain and simple.

Not even using the memoir as an excuse to spend time together had worked. When he brought it up this afternoon, she texted him a list of questions and told him to make a recording of all his answers.

Yeah, well, he’d done plenty of that already this week. He had a much better idea for how he’d like to spend his afternoon, and it had nothing to do with listening to the sound of his own voice.

Noah rapped his knuckles on the open door to Buck’s hospital room. “Hey, old man. You still alive or should I come back later?”

A low rumbled voice answered. “Noah? Good grief, boy. About time you came for a visit. I was starting to get a complex.”

Noah rounded the curtain and stood at the foot of Buck’s bed. He made a show of scrutinizing him over from head to toe and back up again. “Shoot. The way everybody was talking, I expected to find a corpse in the bed. You don’t look half bad.”

Buck swung a thumb to the window that offered a view of a parking garage. “Must be all the natural lighting.”

“Or the gourmet food.”

“The rubbery meatloaf alone has given me a new will to live.”

Noah tapped Buck’s leg with a rolled newspaper and sat down on the edge of the bed. “How are you? Really?”

Buck adjusted the nasal cannula against his nose. “I’ve seen better days. But I’ve got a feeling you have too.”

Noah scrubbed a hand down his face, his scratchy face already due for another shave. “Five strikeouts. Can you believe that? Another outing or two on the mound and I could’ve set an all-time team record.”

“I wasn’t talking about baseball.”

---