Chapter 39
[Ford]
The day after Cadence’s performance, the field is vacant of the stage like a concert never happened. The Anchors have an afternoon game having just finished a three-game away series.
Like I told Cadence, I’m in Chicago for a post-surgery checkup on my shoulder, but I also had a meeting with Ross Davis. Both purposely coincided with her concert.
Before the medical report was given, I’d known the discouraging results.
While my shoulder mobility was good, it wasn’t great.
I’d regained a decent range of motion, but I still couldn’t arch my arm backward in a manner that I could throw a ball with any strength or speed.
I no longer had the ability to perform at a professional level. I was fucked.
But I wasn’t as deflated as I thought I’d be.
Ross Davis told me my body needed more time to heal.
Jokingly, he reminded me I am not as young as I used to be, and my arm has been through the wringer with a lifetime of throwing.
While early retirement once felt like a no-win situation, I no longer felt that way.
The idea of the baseball camp solidified my decision. Cadence had done that for me.
When I went to her concert, I’d been hoping for more of a reaction from her, especially since I laid myself out last night.
I love her. I want her to be with me and the girls. I want us to be her home.
Then again, I understood time has passed. Was I too late? My questions were my intentions, but they might have been over the top. But like Sebastian said, you swing, and swing again, always with the hope of knocking the ball out of the park.
I wanted Cadence to know how I felt, and I didn’t want more time to pass before she belonged to me, because she did belong with me, and my girls. We loved her.
The afternoon after her concert I’m standing in the press box above home plate in Anchor Field, waiting to be called up to sing the seventh inning stretch, a tradition in this stadium. An announcement will reach the press later today if it hasn’t already.
I’m out for the season and taking an early retirement.
Bowing out before my contract was finished, I struggled that it meant I was quitting. What would a woman like Cadence want with a man who gave up?
Stone had been the voice of reason again, reminding me I’d never quit anything in my life. Not my determination. Not my dream. Not even my dismal marriage. And definitely not my girls. My future was them.
The only thing I’d be abandoning was a chance at love if I didn’t take the swing, and risk a miss, by laying out my feelings to Cadence. The ball had been hit. I’d only been hoping she’d catch on to all that I wanted from her.
I was not so patiently waiting to hear from her, but I would wait.
Giving her my number on that beaded bracelet felt a bit risky, not to mention adolescent, but the girls insisted I make a bracelet for Cadence as well as the ones they made for her.
They’d be tickled to know Cadence already wore bracelets with their names on them. Mine too.
I just wanted them with me.
Fuck, I love her.
The girls were not happy I was going to see Cadence without them, but I promised they could make her more jewelry and give her the pieces next time.
Because I was still hopeful there would be a next for us.
As I’m waiting for the seventh inning, a media commercial timeout is taken, and the cameras span the field. A Cadence song is played, and the sound feels like a spike to my heart.
What if she doesn’t call me? What if I really fucked up this time? There was no fourth or fifth strike in baseball.
Anxiously, I stand in the press box, watching the cameras’ focus reflected on the jumbotron located between left and center field. Suddenly, the camera pauses and holds.
A woman wearing an Anchors baseball cap is holding up a poster with hand-painted royal blue and red lettering.
Hey you.
Ford Sylver.
When it’s clear she has the cameraperson’s attention, they zoom in. Despite the cap and large sunglasses covering half her face, I recognize the shape of a body I’m very familiar with.
The Cadence song continues. The camera zooms closer. And Cadence flips the sign.
I have answers.
What the— I narrow my eyes wondering just where in the stadium she is until I realize she’s right below the press box.
Rushing to the open window, I lean over the desk to get a glimpse of her standing in the middle of a vacant row, holding up the sign with her back to me.
Seeing me on the supersized display, my body hanging out the window, she twists to glance up at me.
She drops the sign and cups her hands around her mouth. “Quack, quack, quack, cowboy.”
Rumblings occur around me mingled with snickers and puzzled ‘what the fucks’, but I don’t need an interpretation.
“Caitlin Calloway, get your ass up here.” Only, I don’t wait, I scramble out of the press box, and turn the corner on the lower walkway as Cadence rounds the stairs to this upper level.
Instantly, she’s in my arms. Someone mutters near us, and without releasing her, we’re ushered into the privacy of a hallway accessed mainly by the team owners and other special guests to the stadium.
Within seconds, we’re given privacy as her bodyguard blocks one end of the entrance and field security blocks the other.
“What are you doing here?” I cup her face then remove her sunglasses so I can see her eyes.
“Figured you might want your lucky cap.” She grabs the bill but tugs the cap downward over her eyes. Then she tips her head back to see me better and smiles.
“So, your answers?” She’d been quacking like a nutty duck, but what did that mean?
“If I’m reading you right, you want to have dinner with me.”
“All the dinners.”
“And you want to sleep with me.”
“Every night.”
“And you want me to move in with you.”
“Yes.” I exhale. “I know you live in Nashville and I’m going to be setting up in Sterling Falls.”
“You’re building the camp?” Her voice rises with excitement. Her hands tightening in my shirt.
“I am. So, I don’t know how this will work for us.” The whole living arrangement part. “But I don’t want to be without you.”
Her smile grows wider.
“I want sneaking into bedrooms, but preferably sharing one. And birthdays. We can pick our own color scheme,” I tell her.
Cadence starts to laugh while tears fill her eyes.
“And maybe, possibly, we could work on that pregnancy thing we told your dad about.”
Cadence laughs harder but a sob also escapes, and she covers her mouth with her hand.
Concern sets in. “Or not. We have the girls. I’m fine with that, too.”
But Cadence is already shaking her head, slipping her hands to cup my jaw. “No. No, I want all the babies with you. I love you so much, Ford.”
“I love you, too.”
Our mouths meet and I’m pressing her into the cinderblock wall at her back, wanting to get started right here, right now on making a baby with her.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing heavily, but her hands are in my hair and mine are cupping her backside, keeping her close to me.
“So new birthday colors, huh?” She teases. “How do you feel about purple?”
“I’m becoming partial to rubber duck yellow.”
Cadence tips back her head to laugh but that crazy snort comes out instead, and then we’re both guffawing like silly fools.
Fools in love with each other.
“Ford,” echoes through the cavernous space open at each end, and I turn toward the media specialist frantically waving his arm. “The seventh inning stretch.”
“Oh shit. I need to go sing.”
Cadence chuckles. “You don’t sing, though.”
“I know. But it doesn’t have to be perfect.” The fans will enthusiastically stand and join in singing “Take Me Out to The Ballgame,” a tradition established by a sports commentating legend who often sang the song with a few beers in him.
I take Cadence’s hand and lead her toward the exit. “Sing with me.”
She wraps her hand around my bicep and tips her head against my good shoulder. “Whatever you ask.”
“Whatever I ask.” I stop short of the entrance and spin to face her. “So if I ask one very big question one day, will your answer be more than a quack?”
“How about a resounding yes,” she whispers, shy and flushed while the largest smile I’ve ever seen crosses her mouth.
“That’s a word I plan to hear more often. Tonight even.”
“And every night?” she questions but I don’t want there to be any doubt.
“Every night, baby. Someway, somehow.”
I lead her to the press box where I count down the baseball classic and the fans sing. Cadence takes over while I wrap my arms around her middle until the song finishes and a roaring cheer goes up for the Chicago Anchors.
“I love you, Chicago,” I cry out over the mic, knowing I’m going to miss this city, these fans, and my team.
“I love you,” Cadence draws my attention, reminding me I love her and my girls more.
And then, I kiss her in front of a stadium full of baseball lovers, dispelling any rumors by letting the world know Cadence is my girl.
+ + +
After Cadence and I collapse in my bed, exhausted but sated by makeup sex, we curl toward one another. We don’t have much time before she catches a last-minute flight to meet up with her band and continue the impromptu tour.
“It’s only until November,” she reminds me, her voice quiet while I tuck back her wayward hair.
“Then it’s the holidays in Sterling Falls.”
“I haven’t celebrated family-style in forever.”
She’s told me how she used to spend her time, but the future will be different.
“And now you’ll have forever to celebrate with a family.”
She softly smiles before suggesting, “We should probably talk about Nashville.”
I shake my head, cupping the back of hers. “We don’t have to figure it all out tonight. Just promise me you’ll come back to me. No flitting.”
“Promise me you’ll be waiting?” Her eyes suggest she’s still vulnerable, but she’ll learn. My feet are firmly planted. My stance solid. She’s the swing I’m not going to miss taking.
“Absolutely.” I kiss her once more for reassurance. “Call me any time. Day or night.”
Cadence lifts her wrist displaying the four beaded bracelets I gave her yesterday. “Nice grand gesture.” She winks.
“You didn’t do so bad yourself.” I swipe her nose and inhale her grapefruit scent, a fragrance I’ve missed for the last month. I’m going to miss her again for the next few. “I love you.”
She sweetly claims, “I love you, too, cowboy.”
Pulling back, she looks up at me, and we kiss again like we won’t have enough time before she leaves.
Then I think of something. “I’ll need your new number unless you kept it the same as the one on the phone you lost.”
Cadence slowly rolls her head on the pillow and lowers her gaze, toying with the bracelets on her wrist. “I changed it.”
Tipping up her chin, I force her to look at me. “Explain to me the significance of the old one.”
“My parents had it.” She shrugs, keeping her eyes dipped despite her face pointed at me. “I never wanted to change it in case they decided to call.” Her voice drops quieter with the explanation.
“I’m sorry, Cadence. They suck.”
“They weren’t ever going to reach out, but a girl can dream.” She finally peers up at me. “A daughter can hope.”
I nod once, my jaw tightening for the vulnerable little girl deep inside this beautiful woman and the hurt her parents have caused her.
“How about this then? When your husband calls, you answer.”
“Husband?” She chuckles, the playful mood restoring. “Ford Sylver, are you asking me to marry you?”
“You promised to say yes when I do,” I remind her.
“That I will.” She leans into me, and we kiss again with our future clear.
She is mine. And I am hers.