Second Thoughts: A Hot Baseball Romance (14 page)

~~~

Nick paced in front of the elevator, as nervous as a kid waiting for his prom date. He couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder at the receptionist’s desk. The woman sitting there was not even pretending to do her work—she was staring directly at him.

Well, why shouldn’t she? He’d called her a week ago and bribed her with cold, hard cash. That, and the promise to show up at her kid’s birthday party next month, handing out Rockets swag. Ep would throw a fit if he ever found out, say he should have charged a thousand bucks for the event. But Nick didn’t give a damn what Ep thought. Nick had needed the receptionist’s help. Truth be told, he would have paid a hell of a lot more.

He glanced at the clock on the wall. Quarter to two. Jamie was always, reliably, early to business appointments of any sort. He
knew
that. He’d counted on that.

And, just like magic, the elevator dinged.

The door slid open, and Jamie stood there. The sight of her hammered an arrow into his gut. He tried to remember how to breathe, how to smile, how to step forward and hold the door for her so she could step into the reception area.

But she recovered first. He watched her paste on a smile, setting her jaw like a person bracing for bad news at a doctor’s office. She edged out of the elevator, taking care not to brush against him.

“Nick,” she said. Her voice was perfectly even, precisely balanced. She certainly wasn’t pleased to see him, but she wasn’t angry either. She wasn’t sad, or disgusted, or even resigned. She was merely acknowledging his physical presence in front of her.

“Twelve,” he said. The nickname slipped out, even though he’d coached himself to use her name.

Shit. Her face remained blank. It was like she’d never spoken to him before. Like they had no history together, no past at all, no reason to ever consider a future.

He’d made a huge mistake coming here. All those hours he’d spent, thinking about Ep’s advice, his conniving phone call to the receptionist so that he’d know when Jamie was picking up her check… It had all been a waste of time.

“Excuse me,” Jamie said, taking a single step to the side. “I have an appointment.”

He glanced at the clock. “Not for a few minutes. Please, Jamie. Can we talk?”

She’d never been a fool. Her dagger glance went directly to the receptionist; she took in the girl jumping back to her computer. Jamie knew exactly how she’d been betrayed. She stiffened her shoulders before turning back to him. Pitching her voice just a little too loud, as if she wanted to make sure the receptionist heard every syllable, she said, “Sure, Nick. What would you like to talk about?”

“Please,” he said again, gesturing toward the meeting room behind the receptionist’s desk. His bribe had covered the conference room. He’d made sure of that.

Jamie rolled her eyes, but she followed his lead, not sparing a glance for the traitorous receptionist as she marched into the room. By the time he’d closed the door behind himself, she had her arms crossed over her chest.

His palms were sweating, but he resisted the urge to wipe them against his jeans. His pulse was elevated, adrenaline pumping as hard as when he stepped up to the plate in a big game. He glanced out the window toward the playing field, toward the massive scoreboard that towered over the well-maintained base paths.

Ep had been so certain, so sure…

Nick turned away and shifted the lock on the door, guaranteeing they’d have privacy for the most important conversation of his life.

~~~

“What do you want, Nick?” Jamie was proud that her voice didn’t waver. She’d been so astonished to see him standing in the reception area that she’d almost forgotten to step off the elevator. Only habit and a stinging sense of pride had carried her through the moment.

“Jamie,” Nick said, and then he licked his lips.

She knew that look. He was nervous, just as he had been the first time he’d asked her out for coffee, a lifetime ago. Just as when he’d prepared for classroom presentations, back in college. Just as the day before graduation, when he’d braced himself to break her heart.

“Jamie,” he repeated, and then he rushed on, as if he were afraid he’d forget his lines. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for TrueLove, for not telling you the truth the second I saw you sitting in the bar. You’ll never believe me, but as soon as I realized you were ShyGirl, I knew you could walk away from me. You could reject me the way I’d rejected you back in college, and I was terrified that I’d never have the strength to get over that. Not the way you could. Not the way you
did
. I love you too much.”

“You have a hell of a way of showing it.”

He winced. “I deserve that. And a lot more. All I can say is it was a dick move. I panicked. I felt like I was back in college, and I had to protect you from the truth.”

Her old anger flared. “I can take care of myself, Nick!”

He held up his hands, surrendering as if she had him pinned with an automatic weapon. “I know that now!” He swallowed hard and looked out the window, back at the field, at the scoreboard. “I was an idiot the other night. And I was an idiot back in college. I only cut you out of my life because Ep said I should.”

She barely kept from rolling her eyes. She’d hated Jeremy Epson from the first time she’d met him, with his hand-tailored suits and his hundred-dollar haircuts. Any guy who flashed that much cash—on a college campus no less—was working way too hard to prove his own self-worth.

And then Nick repeated all the old arguments. “Jamie, I only ever wanted what was best for you. I’d heard stories about how terrible it was, being a player’s wife. I knew I’d be moving out to California, and I’d be on the road for weeks at a time. I had to concentrate on the game, it was the thing that was new, the thing I couldn’t control, the thing I couldn’t trust.” He raised his eyes, really looking at her for the first time since they’d entered the room. “You deserved so much more.”

“I understood the rules, Nick,” she said. “I knew what I was signing up for.”

He nodded. “I know that now. You’re a thousand times stronger than I ever gave you credit for. I see what you’ve done with your career…”

She snapped, “I wasn’t fishing for compliments.”

“I know you weren’t!” The energy of his protest spun him back toward the door.

She caught him before he could leave forever. “What are you trying to say, Nick? I know your books tell you to be the hero. You’re supposed to be strong and silent, solving every problem with barely a spoken word. That’s great for a book; that’s wonderful if you’re in some Hemingway novel. But this is the real world. This is us. Tell me something I don’t already know. Make me understand why you came here today.”

~~~

He had to say it. He had to tell her the truth that was chewing away at his guts.

Jesus.
This
was what Ep wanted him to put on the scoreboard?
This
was what he was supposed to shout to the world? Jeremy Epson might be a genius in the world of sports agenting. He might land huge endorsements against impossible odds. But the asshole didn’t know the first thing about love. He didn’t have a clue about Jamie Martin.

Nick turned his back on the blank scoreboard. It was going to sit there, as empty as Jeremy Epson’s heart while Nick shot out a breath and tried one last time.

“I love you, Jamie. You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved. I love the way you use your camera to frame the world, to turn impossible things into objects you can control. I love the way you go for everything you want. I love the way you’re raising our daughter. Even when I was playing games on that stupid website, even when I was typing messages to Shygirl6, it was
you
I kept picturing, you I really loved.”

“Nick—”

He closed the distance between them. “Jamie, when I woke up next to you that Saturday morning, I knew I’d wasted the last seven years of my life. Everything was so good, so comfortable, so
right
that I never wanted to leave. I never wanted to wake up next to anyone else, for the rest of my life. I’m begging you to forgive me for wasting those seven years, because I can never forgive myself.”

Emotions darted across her face. He’d hurt her even more deeply than he’d imagined. His lies about TrueLove had left her brutally exposed. The light died in her eyes as she said, “Nick, even
if
I forgave you, I could never trust you again. Because you keep proving that you don’t trust me.”

He had to say it then. He had to tell her the real reason he’d cut her loose before he went to California. She had to know, to understand. He had to trust her with the truth, even if she walked out of this room forever, even if she never said another word to him again.

“I was a selfish asshole, Jamie. I pushed you away because I wanted to know what else was out there. You were my first, my only, and I had to know what I was missing.”

He saw the knife edge register. Her face paled, and her throat worked as if she were trying to swallow ground glass. She tried to say something, tried to speak, but she couldn’t force out the words.

He went on, because he had nowhere else to go. “I’m sorry. I should have told you. We should have talked. I was scared that I was missing out on something, and I ended up losing everything. I ended up losing you.” His voice was so rough he could hardly make out his own words, but he forced himself to turn around, to meet her shocked, astonished eyes. This was so much harder than Ep’s way, so much more difficult than some grand, empty gesture.

“Dammit, Jamie. Ep said I should be as public as possible about this. He said I should have Luxury’s cameras here, get footage for commercials. I should put something up on the scoreboard and drag you out to the pitcher’s mound, get down on one knee and offer you a three-carat ring.” He dashed the back of his wrist against his eyes.

“I didn’t do that, though. I couldn’t. This is
your
decision. I was wrong to take that away from you, from us, and I’ve been paying for it ever since. I won’t do that again, because this isn’t about me. It was never about me. It’s always been about us. All three of us, now.”

There. He’d done it. He’d reduced everything to words. All the words. All the truths, even the ones that hurt like hell. There was nothing more to say. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the piece of paper he’d finished in the middle of the night. It was folded into careful fourths, and he thought his heart would burst as Jamie took her time opening it. “It’s for Olivia,” he said. “If you could just give it to her? Before her concert tonight?”

~~~

Jamie’s fingers shook as she unfolded the page. He’d used a black crayon to print his message: “Dear Red, I wish I could be at the Fall Chorale. Instead, I drew you a picture so you’d know how much I’m thinking of you. I hope you’ll sing your acorn song for me the next time we see each other. Love, Red.”

The line drawing showed a man with flaming orange hair, holding out an acorn to a girl with the same bright curls. They both had green eyes and huge smiles on their faces. He’d sketched in a scalloped border of pink and purple.

She was too overwhelmed to say anything. He’d chosen his words so carefully, not even hinting that Jamie was the reason he couldn’t attend the concert. Her throat ached with unshed tears. He’d remembered Olivia’s show despite the chaos of the past two weeks, despite the disaster they’d made of their personal lives.

“Love, Red.” So simple. So straightforward. Just like his final confession had been.

He’d been a kid, back in college. He’d been scared. He’d wondered what he was missing.

Wasn’t that what she’d done in New York—exploring the music scene, photographing all the darkness, all the danger? She’d tested a life without Nick in it, a life without the safety and security of marrying her college sweetheart.

Sure, he should have told her. They should have talked. But that had been seven years ago. How much had she learned in seven years? How much smarter was she now, were
they
now? Smarter and braver and wiser.

“Nick,” she finally said. “I can’t believe you brought that for Olivia.”

And she saw him reach a decision. “That’s not the only thing I brought.” She watched him reach into his front pocket this time. He extended his palm toward her, almost reluctant to unfold his fingers, to reveal whatever he held. She measured the effort it took, saw the determination in his eyes.

And then she was staring at a diamond ring. A simple band—yellow gold, a small square-cut stone.

It wasn’t a ring for a millionaire’s wife. It didn’t boast of success, of a successful pro sports career, of coveted endorsements and fame. It was a ring for a college student, a senior, a girl who had her whole life ahead of her—challenges and fears and goals. It was the ring she’d handed back to Nick before he’d walked out of her dorm room.

The first time, he’d made a game of his proposal, spreading a dozen clues around campus until she’d found the ring beneath the pillow in his dorm room. This time, he wasn’t playing, not at all. He was deadly serious, his green eyes steady, his palm open, his breathing so slow she couldn’t see his chest rise and fall.

“Jamie,” he said. “You said yes once before. I’d give anything to hear you say yes again. I’d give anything, say anything, do anything. Jamie Martin, is there any possible way you’d consider marrying me?”

When she’d said yes seven years before, she’d thought the world would always be a game. She’d believed she could do anything, be anything, succeed at her every heart’s desire.

In the intervening time, she’d learned there were hard choices to make. She couldn’t spend her entire professional life on the creative knife’s edge of music clubs, not if she wanted to be home for her daughter. She couldn’t live in the sheltered nest of her family’s Connecticut home, not if she wanted to be strong and independent. She couldn’t wallow in past pain, in old mistakes, in the desperate decisions of frightened, pressured youth, not if she wanted to be a fully-functioning adult.

Nick had hurt her. He’d capsized her safe world, left her adrift when she’d most needed a safe harbor.