Alex

“Come on, man,” Seb says as he follows me off the field. “It’s my wedding. You’re my best friend on the team. You have to be there.”

Seb and I play for the baseball team in Miami. He’s the catcher. I’m the shortstop. We’ve played together for most of the eight years we’ve been in the league. Sometimes I think I could catch his throw to second with my eyes closed. Actually, I think I probably have a couple of times.

“The only reason I ever liked you was because you were grumpier and more jaded than me. Somehow, you’ve always made me look like a nice guy.” I throw my glove onto the bench in the dugout. “But since you met Sophie, you’re all happy and stuff. It’s weird. You’re always smiling now. It creeps me out.”

Seb met Sophie about a year ago, fell in love probably the second day he knew her, got engaged within six months, and is marrying her next week. They’re perfect for each other. I’m happy for them, but I’m also jealous and pissed off that he’s found someone he wants to spend the rest of his life with—when I struggle to find someone I want to spend the rest of the night with.

“Speaking of Sophie,” he says, trying not to smile as he says her name. He fails. “She’ll be sad if you’re not there—”

“Don’t play the Sophie card with me,” I say, pointing at him. “You know I like her way better than I like you.”

“As well you should,” he says as he pours a little water over his head and shakes the excess off.

“Damn, Seb,” our equipment manager, Bud, says as he tries to wipe the water off his shirt. “Give a guy some warning. I don’t want your sweat all over me.”

“Wear that fucking catcher’s mask in ninety-degree heat. Then you get to complain, Bud.”

“There,” I say, shoving him as I walk away, “that’s the grouchy guy I like.”

Seb follows me to the end of the bench. “We’re not done, Alex. You’re one of my best friends. You have to be at the wedding. I think it’s like a law or something.”

“Fuck you. You just invited me last week.” I look up as Jack swats a single to left field. That means I’ll have to bat this inning. Bud hands me my shin guard. “And didn’t you tell me Sophie wanted a small wedding? Why the change?”

“First of all, this was a last-minute thing, so we just invited everyone last week,” he says, sitting next to me. “Second, we did want a small wedding, but our friends just bought a resort on St. John. They’re getting ready to open and offered the entire resort to us as kind of a test run for their staff. It seemed too good to pass up, so I chartered a few planes to fly everyone down there. Come on, man. It’s the Caribbean. Let’s wrap up the season tomorrow, head down there, and have some fun.”

I take a deep breath and blow it through my teeth. “I’ll be there if you promise you won’t be all over Sophie the entire week.”

“I definitely will not promise that. I don’t even think it’s possible not to touch her when she’s near me.”

“Yeah, we know,” Manny says as he walks by us. “It makes us all want to throw up with how happy the two of you are. My wife won’t shut up about it. She’s so jealous. You’re making the rest of us look bad, asshole.”

Seb shrugs. “Can’t stop. Won’t stop.”

Manny grabs his batting helmet and heads to the on-deck circle. “Alex, you have to go to the wedding to keep me from killing Seb. He’s paying for everything, so if for no other reason, let’s go down there and spend as much of his money as possible.”

I look at Seb. “I’ll come down there, but you have to tell Sophie she can’t try to set me up again. That last woman she introduced me to is still stalking me.”

“I don’t get why you didn’t like Allie,” Seb says. “She’s cool—pretty, nice, funny—”

“Boring.”

“She’s not boring,” he says, laughing. “She’s usually the life of the party.”

“Exactly. All show, no substance. Boring.” I grab my bat out of the cubby and point it at him. “If you weren’t with Sophie, would you date Allie?”

“If I weren’t with Sophie, I’d be walking around grumpy and pissed off, just like you are now.”

“Exactly,” I say, heading up the steps to the field. “Tell Sophie no set-ups. Not even the one-night-stand kind. Okay?”

Seb sighs. “I’ll tell her, but she and Maisie scheme about this stuff behind my back.”

I stop and turn around. “Now that little Maisie, that’s one I’d be into—she’s a firecracker.”

“A married firecracker—happily married. That’s a non-starter. I like her husband. She’s off-limits.”

“Well that just sucks,” I say, stepping onto the field. “I mean for me. Not really for her, I guess.”