Page 41 of Home Run Fiancé
“Sorry about punching you,” he grumbles, looking sheepish.
“No, no. You’re right, I deserved that. Maybe could have timed it better, you know, not when I was trying to apologize, but I get it.” A smile slips out even though my eye still pulses with pain.
Asher smiles too and we share a moment. Things are going to be okay between us.
“Come here, knucklehead.” Asher opens up his arms and steps forward.
We hug it out for a second and then I thump him on the back. Hard.
I let go and steer him back to the trunk of his car. “Let’s go inside and brainstorm how I can win your sister back.”
Asher makes a strangled noise, but he grabs his suitcase and follows me to my condo where we spend the rest of the day like we did back when I was eighteen and struggling to afford my cup of noodles.
It means absolutely everything, despite my major screwup, that Asher believes in me and approves of me for his little sister. I know how protective he is of her, so to have his help in getting her back is something I never could have hoped for. Opening day is just two days away and while I should be nervous over my debut on a whole new team, all I can think about is whether Rhys will ever forgive me.
By nighttime, I have an idea that might work. I run it by Asher, who vetoes every other idea I’ve had all afternoon. This time, he thinks on it for awhile, the enthusiasm in his face growing the more we hash out the details. It’s a hugely public Hail Mary, but I’m willing to do anything to get Rhys to give me another chance. A flare of hope comes to life and I feel like I’m on my way back to my old self.
Apathy is in my rearview mirror and I have a new drive to succeed. This time it’s not about my career, but about my love life. About my happiness and Rhys’. And it’s going to take Asher, my brother, and my mama’s help to make this plan work.
17
Rhys
Days pass in a weird fog. I physically hurt over the separation from Jake, which doesn’t make sense since I still have a huge ball of rage in my gut whenever I think about how he judged me, brushed me aside, and replaced me without a word. It’s a conflicting thing to both loathe a person and pine for them at the same time. My heartbreak shouts its presence in the bags under my eyes, the limp hair I can’t be bothered to brush, and the dullness of my skin.
My normal outlet for hard times is being creative, whether it’s doing something crafty or making a new dish. I’d record the process and edit it together to make a new YouTube video for my fans. Unfortunately, that creative spark seems to have gone on vacation. That and I can’t upload a video anyway until the hate mongers get bored and decide to get off my channel. I have learned heartache is doubly worse when you have total strangers flogging you with public opinion from the safety of their keyboards. As much as I know I should brush off their hate-filled rants, it’s easier said than done.
I finally make it out of my apartment on Thursday. Several phone calls with Charlotte—aka my therapist—have gotten me to a place where I think I can handle a simple visit to Hit Me without breaking down into an embarrassing puddle of tears.
The outside world bustles around me like usual, having no idea, nor caring even if they did know, that my whole life has ground to a halt with Jake gone. I make it to Hit Me, pulling open the old glass door and inhaling the familiar scent of roasted coffee beans and baked goods. Basically, taste bud paradise. Charlotte’s is the first face I see, smiling at me enthusiastically and waving me over to a free table in the back.
Weaving through the tables, I toss my bag onto the opposite chair and sit down, inordinately proud of myself for this little accomplishment. I know Charlotte will bring me sustenance when there’s a lull in traffic so I put my elbows on the table and rest my head on my hands. Watching everyone around me, sitting, drinking, talking, I wonder what’s going on in their lives. I make up a sad story for the guy sitting in the corner by himself, a tale about his beautiful wife dying tragically young. The older couple in the front, by the big bay window, are missing their four kids off at college, maybe debating on the merits of curtains over blinds. The young woman in the business suit and severe chignon is a corporate slave, working hard to get the next promotion so she can proudly display her new title on social media and prove to all her old high school friends that she really is somebody.
“Croissant and caramel latte for my bestie.” Charlotte glides onto the chair next to me, my favorites slid onto the table by her practiced hands.
“Thank goodness you came when you did. I was getting sappier by the second over here by myself.” I shake my head and wipe my mind of those ridiculous stories. I take a huge bite of the croissant, realizing at first chew I’m starving.
Charlotte chuckles at my stuffed cheeks. “You look like you’ve been on the breakup diet of tears and ice cream. I should come over and make you a real meal tonight with actual protein in it.”
I swallow as quickly as I can. “Hey, ice cream has protein!”
Charlotte lifts an eyebrow like only she can. It’s like she’s channeled the Queen of England with her expressions.
I quickly change the subject before she can get into the full swing of a nutrition lecture. “On another note, I came up with a business idea.” I can’t help myself and pause to take a quick drink of the latte. Pure heaven. “So, you know how they have those glam boxes or fitness boxes you can buy or receive shipped to your door on a monthly basis?” Charlotte nods so I continue. “How about a breakup box?”
She scrunches her eyebrows together and I hurry to explain.
“When you have a breakup, you go to thebreakupbox.com—or some other easy-to-remember url—and we ship out a box of ice cream, chocolate, super soft tissues, and maybe a dart board cutout in the shape of a man.” I shrug. “There’s all kinds of things we could put in the box. What do you think?”
Charlotte’s expression clears bit by bit, finally ending in a tinkling laugh that catches the attention of every male in the shop. “It’s just crazy enough to actually take off, Rhys. So when are you building the website?”
“Ha!” I bark around another giant bite of the croissant. “I may have to start tomorrow if I can’t get back to my YouTube channel.” I immediately deflate, thinking of the nasty comments awaiting me.
Charlotte puts her hand on mine. “That’s it. I’m taking over duties as your best friend. No more looking at the comments section. I’ll let you know the minute it’s safe to upload a new video, okay?” At my grateful nod, she continues. “My mother always told me, the minute you let the public dictate your life, that’s when you’re truly powerless. Don’t let them do that to you.”
I tilt my head, thinking on her words. “Wow, your mom is really smart. Did she have to deal with the public all the time too?”
Charlotte’s gaze darts away and I know I’ve asked too personal a question. For being my bestie, I really don’t know much about her, just enough to know I’ve pushed for too much with that question. I respect her privacy and will wait for her to confide in me when she feels comfortable.
