Page 86 of So That Happened

Beneath the hoodie, he’s wearing one of those baseball shirts with a white body and navy sleeves, pushed up to show off his muscular, brawny forearms.

Boy, oh boy.

“No, they’re gonna kiss.”

“Kiss?” I squeak, startling back to my senses.

“Yes,” Legs repeats slowly, like she thinks I’m a bit dim. “Kiss. Like Mindy and Uncle Luke, and maybe like you and Uncle Liam, too?”

“Oh, I um… uhh…”

I seem to be lost for words a lot lately.

Thankfully, nobody seems to have heard the musings of this eight-year-old’s overactive imagination. And double thankfully, Mindy’s around to save me.

“Annie!” She moves towards me with her arms outstretched, wrapping me in a hug. Goodness me, she’s friendly. “How are you?”

Before I can answer, she sees my shirt.

“Wait…” A slow smile spreads across her face. ”What is this?”

“What?” Luke appears at her side and slings an arm over her petite shoulder. They’re cute together. Very healthy and attractive, like a pair of prized racehorses or something.

Mindy nods towards my shirt and Luke’s eyes widen for a moment before he chuckles. “Does this have something to do with Vanessa not being able to get the uniforms in time?”

I barely hear his question, though, because I’m focused on Liam.

Liam Donovan, in all his mussed-hair, baseball-shirted, tattooed glory. Liam Donovan, who is staring directly at my t-shirt.

His eyes linger for a few long moments, and then he looks up to meet my gaze. Slowly, oh so slowly. Like his eyes are dragging up my body.

When they finally lock on mine, the anticipation is worth it. Because the smile that follows—the glorious smile that spreads over his handsome face as a result of my efforts—almost makes my knees give way.

He’s smiling.

At me.

Thank you, Brené Brown, for giving me the courage to show up as myself today.

And thank you, Mom, for not letting me leave the house in those Skechers.

25

LIAM

I’ve learned another thing about Annie Jacobs today.

She is trulyterribleat sports.

It’s like her arms and legs and body don’t communicate, and every time she tries to hit or catch the ball, she ends up in a tangle of limbs, galloping around like a newborn deer.

It’s the most amusing thing I’ve ever seen… and adorable. Which is odd. I’ve always considered myself an athlete, but I never thought that athleticism—or lack thereof—would be something I’d be drawn to in a woman. But I guess there’s a first for everything.

Annie seems to give me lots of firsts.

And today, for the first time in years, I’m not thinking of all the negative memories that come with standing on a baseball diamond. I’m thinking of her instead.

I can’t help but feel attracted to how she does things her own way, not caring what anyone else thinks. Case in point: all the other women from the office—plus Mindy—have arrived to the field wearing some variation of leggings and a tank top. There’s a scale, ranging from little more than a bra (Vanessa) to flowing, oversized floral patterns (Barb).

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