Page 102 of Stepping Up to the Plate

Emerly takes over after the tour and fills me in on all the upcoming events and offerings they have for the rest of the year. I end up signing Carina, Tiffany, and myself for a Pinot and Pilates class in a few weeks. I spend most of the morning at the winery before meeting with Molly to go over brand opportunities and then working out with Charlie.

By the time I make it back to my apartment, I am wiped. All I want to do is enjoy some carbs and comfort TV. When I open the fridge to pull out Aunt Teresa’s homemade pasta sauce, I see fresh bottles of syrup in the fridge. Not only are my beloved lavender and orange blossom back, but there is also a bottle of toffee flavor. A sticky note is stuck to the top of one of the bottles. It reads, “These came today. Auto-ship?”

If I wasn’t tired, I might question the timing. Instead, I am grateful. I spend the rest of the night lulled by Sandra Bullock and Hugh Grant, ignoring all my responsibilities.

ChapterForty-Eight

• BRADY •

It’s been three and a half weeks since Lola and I embarked on this break. As much as I hate it, I understand this is something she needs to do. I can see now how we let our emotions overwhelm us and got ahead of ourselves. Everything was so perfect, it was too hard to hold back. But when you know it is forever, what’s a few more weeks?

I wish things could be different, but I have to trust that our bond is strong enough to withstand this break, and it will ultimately make us better. Today we are meeting for coffee again. I scroll through our texts as I wait for her. Only messaging her once per day is killing me, but it would be much worse if we weren’t communicating at all.

A part of me was afraid she would cancel since we play our first game in the League Championship tonight, but she didn’t mention it. To be honest, I am as grateful for the distraction as I am to see her.

I don’t know if it is because I haven’t seen her in a week, but I am mesmerized when she walks in. In the months since we started dating, she’s allowed her hair to grow below her collar bones. It’s halfway between the long locks she had when we first met and the bob she had when I returned from camp. Something about the length highlights for me how much she’s grown from both those women. She radiates a new sense of self-confidence and assuredness that looks good on her.

“I’d scold you for ordering for me, but I don’t think it would do any good,” she chides, taking her seat.

I offer her a knowing smirk. “But then you may not have gotten a s’more latte and chocolate chip scone.”

She takes a sip before giving me an approving moan. Fuck, I missed hearing that sound. She must read something carnal in my expression because her cheeks pinken.

“Ready for tonight?” she asks.

“As ready as I can be. We know what we have to do, it’s simply a matter of doing it. This is the furthest we’ve gotten in the past decade. We can make it all the way if we put our mind to it.”

I love that she is interested in my career, but the last thing I want to talk about is me. I know how I’m doing. I want to hear about her. “I read your post about that spa,” I say. “Sounds like you had a good time. I’d never heard of a salt cave before.”

“You read my spa article?” she questions.

“Of course.”

“Why?”

“Because you wrote it? I read all your articles.”

“Even if they don’t interest you?”

“Why wouldn’t they interest me? You wrote them.” Tenderness flashes in her eyes. She sips her drink to cover it up. I don’t know why this surprises her. I’m her biggest supporter and number one fan. I’d read a vacuum manual if she wrote it.

Embarrassed by my admission, it’s her turn to change the subject. “How is your family? Have they made it to any games?”

We spend the next ten minutes talking about my family and the matching grandma-granddaughter outfits my mom had made for her and Chloe to watch the games in. I wish I could’ve recorded the melodic giggle Lola let out when I showed her the pictures. I would listen to it on repeat every day. I sigh when I see our time is up again and take a risk placing my hand on her back as I lead her out to her car.

When we get there, I get lost in her hazel eyes. After a minute, she widens them at me expectantly.

“What?” I inquire.

“Aren’t you going to ask?”

“Ask what?”

“The questions you ask every time. ‘Are we still good?’ and ‘Will I reach out to you if I need anything?’Anything,” she mocks in a deep voice I think is supposed to be me.

“Are we?”

“Yes.”

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