Page 155 of The Future Play

“Good. Because I’m going to need all the help I can get, and probably some advice too,” I say as we walk out of the stadium together.

“You have to grovel,” Penny says, like she did two years ago.

Fuck, I am done screwing up with Amanda. She deserves to have everything. All my love. All the happiness. Peace and comfort.

I’m going to give her all that and more. Penny’s right, I need to grovel, and my way of doing that is showing Amanda how deeply I love her.

My momand Penny are asleep in the spare room. She pulled Penny out of school so they could visit for a couple of days. Cal was jealous, but the kid can barely sit through an inning of baseball, let alone a whole game.

Now I’m staring at the notebook in front of me. Part of my plan is ambitious, but I’m hoping if I put it out into the universe, I’ll get what I need. Whatweneed.

When my phone goes off, I’m hoping it’s one of the people I contacted following up, but I almost fall off the bed when I see it’s a voice note from Amanda.

I’m slightly afraid, but also hopeful.

Turning the volume up, I press play, letting her beautiful voice fill the room.

“Hey.”She pauses, and I can tell from her breathing that she’s trying not to cry.“I, um… I miss you. I guess I just wanted you to know I’m thinking of you. And you’re really hot when you’re all confident on the mound.”She sniffs, and I’m torn between heartbreak and relief.“Um, I think we should talk soon. Even if it’s just over the phone or text. Anyway, uh, I think that’s all. I just wanted to… I don’t know. Okay. Bye.”

I listen to it again and then one more time, reveling in the sound of her voice.

She reached out. She misses me. I still have a chance, and I’m not going to waste it.

I listen one more time, then send a text back.

Me: I miss you too. Thanks for the message. I’ve been wanting to talk too. Maybe we could start with texting throughout the week? And then… would you come to my game on Thursday? I’ll send a car so you don’t have to drive.

The little dots as she types are agonizing and last for what feels like hours before a text comes through.

My girl: Texting sounds good. As for the game… I don’t know. I might have plans.

My heart sinks and frustration builds inside me. We need to fix this and she might have other plans?

But then I read the text again, and I remember what she said the first time I ever invited her to a game.

Too bad I have plans.

She teased me afterward that I didn’t ask who those plans were with.

I pick my phone up again.

Me: Any chance those plans are with a certain Metros pitcher?

My girl: Maybe.

Me: Think you can score me an invite?

My girl: I’ll do my best.

Me: Good. Well, have a good night, okay? Sleep well.

My girl: Thanks. You too.

I set my phone aside and lay back, my mind racing almost as fast as my heart.

There’s a lot to do before Thursday, but I’ll skip sleeping if I have to, I don’t care. This is my chance to make things right—to start, at least—and I’m not going to blow it.

By Friday morning, Amanda will be in my arms again, and she’ll know with certainty that those arms will always be her safe place.

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