Page 29 of Moon Shot

Bracing myself for the impact, I held my breath as I opened the door.

“You didn’t come over.” Rowan leaned against my doorframe, two paper cups in his hands.

“Good morning.” I rubbed my eyes, making sure I wasn’t dreaming. “Why are you here?”

“We had plans.”

“I didn’t know you were serious. You were talking about pajamas.” I stepped away from the door and waved for him to come inside. “I keep my pajamas here, in my house, in my dresser.”

“Can I see?” Rowan’s boisterous laughter at my frozen expression was almost humiliating. “I’m kidding! I don’t need to see your bedroom. Unless you want me to. You’re too easy to mess with.”

“I’ll take the coffee and,” I took both cups from his hands and moved my knee toward the door, “see you never.”

“Wait.” He grabbed my lifted ankle as I tried to stand on one wobbling foot while holding two hot cups of coffee. “Before you kick me out, I need to talk to you about doing something next weekend.”

“This is going to be a weekly thing, then? Okay,” I grappled with the idea, “so what’s on the schedule?” Lowering my leg, Rowan closed the door and followed me into the living room. I curled up in one corner of the couch while he sat at the other end, his left arm spread along the back.

“Come with me to the mayor’s park clean up on Saturday. It’s all day and, to make up for using your entire Saturday, I promise to feed you. And you get to pick the park.”

Of all the parks in the entire city, I could pick one to flaunt my fake relationship. “Washington. It’ll be full of people to see you being so,” I batted my eyelashes, teasing him, “in love with me.”

Rowan poked my thigh with his foot. “Maybe you’re just hoping for another thunderstorm so we can spend more time together.”

“Ha!” I burned my throat as I choked on my coffee. “Or maybe it’s convenient. Besides, we didn’t get to finish hanging out in the rose garden.”

Settling the details, Rowan stuck around for another two hours. I made pancakes, and he told me about his game schedule for the rest of the weekend, how he was going to practice early, and that I could come if I wanted.

I stretched my arms, the collar of my shirt slipping off my shoulder.

“That looks familiar,” Rowan snickered, looping one finger under my blue bra strap. Swatting him away, I laughed at the mess of a memory that night had been. Spilled beer, his Emeralds sweatshirt, and drinks with my team and his. “I’ll plan on you coming over next weekend, but you can always… Call me or… Whatever, if you want to meet up. Or something.”

“Rowan Ellis,” I teased, “are you asking me to spend time with you as a friend? Is this a,” I looked around, whispering to make his smile last even longer, “friendship? Are we officially friends?”

“Yes,” he squeezed my nose, “we are, you dork.” I swatted at him, rubbing my nose.

“Thank you for the coffee. Listen,” I added, “tell Diego I say hi. Ask him if he likes the color blue.” I snapped my bra strap, laughing at the serious expression on Rowan’s face. He scowled, rolling his eyes at me before he left, and I couldn’t stop smiling.

I watched the two-game series that weekend at home, preparing myself for work on Monday, when I was bombarded with questions about my new boyfriend.

When Harrison pulled us into a meeting after lunch, I felt strangely validated in our plan. Harrison warned us again about funding, but I was so close to getting what we’d need.

“What’s got you smiling so big?” Monica probed, taking me from a daydream. I couldn’t admit it was thinking of Rowan coming over on the weekend, how it felt so easy to laugh with him now, or that I looked forward to seeing him. Because that wasn’t true, was it? I wasn’t waiting for Saturday for more reasons than the day off?

THIRTEEN

It was quarter after eight by the time I found a parking spot, and another mile hiking around the curving elevation before I found the spattering of dark green shirts among a sea of people.

“Your man’s over there,” Diego shouted to me as he approached, pointing behind him toward a group of kids and their enthusiastic moms. “How are you, princess?”

His brown eyes scanned my body like I was going through airport security. “My eyes are up here,” I told him, crossing my arms, “and my man is over there.”

Diego nodded, rubbing his jaw as I busted his ego, and changed his tune. He was introducing me to another player when Rowan joined us, picking me up and spinning me around until I was dizzy.

“I’m going to kill you,” I whispered against his neck, “or puke on you.”

“There are three news stations here,” he replied, slowly lowering me to my feet. That was code for “turn on the fake”. I thought of Aubrey coming over to interrogate me last week and the kind people I met who thought I was really this first baseman’s princess.

When his teammates gathered around the mayor’s podium, Rowan draped his arms around me from behind, letting me lean against his stomach.

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