2. two
two
Brooks
There have only been two things I can say I have truly loved in my life: baseball and Nora Foster.
Every time I visit Delia’s Diner, it feels like stepping into a time capsule. I’m sixteen again, grabbing a bite to eat with a few of my teammates after an early morning practice or stopping by to catch a glimpse of the pretty, dark-haired waitress who’s also in my English class. The girl who stole my heart by causing a spectacularly clumsy dessert disaster, which led to me helping her scrub chocolate syrup and foamy, melted ice cream off the diner floor. Before I’d left the diner that night, I’d asked for her number.
For some reason, those old, forgotten memories came to the forefront of my mind today, and I couldn’t do it. Booth six is the last booth at the back of the restaurant, which usually offers my family privacy when we visit Delia’s. But today, I’d caught a glimpse of Nora near the kitchen when we’d entered, and my gut had bottomed out at the sight of her. Usually she’s nowhere to be seen when I come around, and something about catching a glimpse of her left me feeling surprisingly vulnerable. Memories started clambering to the surface of my mind, and I needed to snuff them out.
I’d asked to be seated outside in the hopes of shoving down all of the frozen bits of my past this place holds, but as she approaches our table, my pulse starts to pound. All chances of forgetting have just gone out the window.
“Nora!” Mom says cheerily. “How lucky are we to get the manager herself waiting on us today?”
“How are you, Mrs. Alden?” Nora says warmly, the glint of her bright smile making something twinge in my chest. It’s a gorgeous smile. One I’d love for her to turn on me.
But she won’t. She can’t.
“It’s great to see you all,” she says, giving a courteous sweep of her gaze over everyone except for me. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting. We’re a little busy this morning.”
“That’s okay,” my sister Caroline chimes in. “We’re in no hurry.”
“Brooks has the weekend off,” Mom says, reaching over to pat my hand. Nora has no choice but to acknowledge me then. She tips her head in my direction, her soft brown eyes widening slightly as they meet mine. She gives me a hesitant, polite smile.
“How nice. Glad you decided to stop by.”
She doesn’t ask me any follow-up questions or attempt to hold my attention like most women would do, given the chance. But she’s not like most women in my social circle. She’s more…real. Soft in all the right ways and naturally beautiful. She’s always been beautiful.
I cut my eyes back down to my menu, pretending to contemplate my order even though I eat the same thing every time I come in. A veggie omelette with a side of bacon and breakfast potatoes. Nora probably knows this.
“How’s the season going?” It takes a kick from my other sister, Claire, under the table for me to realize that Nora is talking to me. Acknowledging my existence.
“It’s going great,” I say, looking her full-on in the face for the first time in a long while. It feels forbidden. I shouldn’t feel an automatic, visceral pull towards her still. But it’s hard not to. She’s lovely. Her skin is tan and smooth, freckled from the sun, her full, dark hair lifting in the sea breeze.
I realize that my mom and sisters are staring at me. Claire lets out a little sniff of amusement, and I’m tempted to kick her right back under the table.
“Gearing up for play-offs,” I tack on. “It’s a busy time.”
“I’m sure it is. We’re all cheering you on. Especially my dad. He’s got his heart set on the Stormbreakers winning the Wild Card this year.”
Her dad isn’t the only one. I’ve felt the pressure to perform well this postseason after a killer rookie season last year.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say.
“Are you all ready to order?” Nora says, bringing her hands together. My pulse skitters under my neck as I register something else that’s new about Nora.
I notice the chipped pink polish on her fingernails. The glint of two silver rings on her right hand. The bare stretch of tan skin on a certain finger of her left hand.
There’s no diamond blinding me in the sunlight. No gemstone-inlaid piece of jewelry circling her ring finger. There’s not even a tan line where it used to be.
Nora Foster isn’t wearing a wedding ring anymore.
“She seems to be doing well, all things considered,” Mom says once Nora’s gone.
I’m not big into gossip, but in this case my curiosity gets the better of me. “All things considered?”
“We all swore to never speak of Nora around you after you broke up, remember?” Claire points out.
“What happened to her?” I say.
“You sure you want to know?” Caroline asks. “Because I specifically remember the last time I brought her up you threatened to burn all my books.”
“No, I didn’t,” I scoff.
“You did,” Claire says.
“Okay, well, I’m sorry. Your books are safe now. You can tell me what happened.”
My sisters and mom exchange glances, hesitant to speak. Whatever it is I’m about to learn about the girl who I let get away is making me nervous. She’s still my biggest regret.
“Nora and Nate got divorced two years ago,” my mom finally says. “They were pretty quiet about things.” She has firsthand experience with divorce, having finally separated from our dad several years ago while I was playing in the minors. “I’ve talked with her mother a few times, and it’s really quite sad.”
“He was unfaithful,” Caroline adds. “Nate.”
“What?” I stare at my mom and sisters in turn, my grip tightening around my fork. I’m struck with the sudden desire to go back and shake my eighteen-year-old self who asked his family to never speak of Nora again. How did I not know about this? Nate had been my friend in high school. When I eventually found out that he and Nora were together, yeah, I was insanely jealous. But I also knew that even if I couldn’t be the man she deserved, she’d at least chosen a decent guy as her husband. He’d always been respectful and kind to her.
But evidently, Nate was no longer the guy I’d been friends with all those years ago.
“He cheated on her?” I ask in disbelief. “With who?”
“Someone he worked with. They’re married now,” Claire says softly. “Nora found out she was pregnant shortly after she found out about the affair.”
Pregnant? Affair? I have no right to feel anything towards Nora, but my head is buzzing, and a wave of protectiveness rises within me. I want to track Nate down and deck him in his jaw.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Claire says, looking apologetic. “But I thought you didn’t want me to. I honestly thought maybe you’d come across something about their divorce on social media or hear about it from someone else.”
“I don’t follow either of them,” I say. I used to. But once I was out of the picture and they were happily married, I couldn’t stomach their posts. Call me immature, but I’d had to do it in order to move on.
“So, they’re no longer together? But they’ve got a kid?”
“A little boy,” Caroline says. “Ollie. He’s adorable.”
“I’m sure he is,” I say. “No thanks to Nate.” I’m hoping nobody picked up on the bitterness that slithered into my tone. I’d better keep my mouth shut while out here in public where gossip spreads faster than one of Cortez’s hundred-mile-an-hour pitches.
“Like I said,” Mom says. “She seems to be doing much better lately. She’s a brave girl, that Nora.”
I register that Claire and Caroline are staring at each other with wide eyes, doing their twin telepathy thing that always makes me feel like an even bigger third wheel.
“Stop that,” I mumble, pointing my fork at Caroline accusingly.
“I could find out if she’s seeing anyone for you. Scope out the competition.”
“You know I don’t have time to date right now,” I say, but secretly I’m wondering how I could obtain that information myself without involving my nosy sisters. Could Nora really be available again? I never dared to let myself think of the possibility.
“I hate to tell you this,” Claire says with a heavy sigh. “But you’re getting old, Brooks.”
“Tell that to Sports Weekly .”
“Past your prime.”
“At twenty-seven?”
“Any day now, you’re going to look around at all of the wealth you’ve amassed and think, ‘Shoot. I don’t even have an heir I can bequeath all of this to,’” Caroline says.
“You realize that if you don’t find a wife soon, every penny you’ve made will go to us, right?” Claire says around a bite of food. “Your poor, lowly sisters who can barely make ends meet.”
“On second thought,” Caroline says. “Maybe we won’t help you find a wife so we can inherit your fortune.”
“You both know you’ll get nothing from me either way. You’re nothing but two big pains in my—”
“Did you hear that, Mother?” Claire cuts me off. “Brooks intends to leave us with nothing!”
“You’re both capable of taking care of yourselves. I don’t see either of you trying very hard to find husbands,” I say.
“That’s because we’re not ancient like you.”
“I’ve got plenty of child-bearing years left in me.” It’s just as Claire finishes this sentence that Nora reappears, balancing plates loaded with breakfast food.
“Oh, hi, Nora,” Claire says, tossing me a wicked grin. “We were just discussing childbearing.”
Nora sets a plate of French toast down in front of my loud-mouthed sister, looking like she’s trying not to smile.
“How’s Ollie doing?” Caroline asks, always adept at steering the conversation away from Claire’s attempts to embarrass me in public.
“He’s great,” Nora says, setting my omelet down in front of me. “He keeps me busy.”
The truth about Nora’s situation is making me see her in a completely new light. Her eyes flick to mine for the briefest second, and I can’t help but wonder what her little boy looks like. Does he have her beautiful, dark brown eyes? Is he the spitting image of Nate?
“How old is he?” I ask.
“He’ll be two next month.”
Two . That means she’s been single for at least two years now? I guess I shouldn’t assume. Maybe she’s got a boyfriend. The thought makes me grip my fork even tighter.
“Who tends to Ollie while you work?” Claire asks.
“My mom helps me a few times a week, and my neighbor runs a daycare out of her house, so she takes him on the other days.”
“If you ever need a babysitter, call me up,” Claire says. “I’ve got lots of experience working with kids.”
She’s a fourth-grade teacher at Kitt’s Harbor Elementary. One of the most requested, she likes to brag.
“That’s very sweet of you.”
“Her experience doesn’t count for much. The kids she teaches are probably potty-trained and can speak in full sentences,” Caroline teases, turning to Claire. “You wouldn’t know the first thing about caring for a toddler.”
“Of course I would. I’ve got Brooks here as my brother.” She leans toward Nora and drops her voice to a hoarse whisper. “You should see the tantrums this man throws when the Stormbreakers lose a game.”
Leave it to my sister to keep me humble. “Tantrums?” I repeat.
“Okay, maybe he’s grown out of the tantrums,” Claire says. “Now he just sulks and mopes about.”
“You and Ollie have that in common,” Nora says, giving me an understanding smile. “It’s hard when you don’t get something you want and have worked hard for. I get it.” She somehow spun Claire’s incessant teasing into a way to validate my dedication to my sport. “Is there anything else I can get for you at the moment?” she asks.
“We’re all set,” Mom says warmly.
“Just let me know if there’s anything else you need,” Nora says, smiling directly at me. That smile on her lips hits me in the dead center of my chest, and I decide, right then and there, that if the opportunity presents itself for me to see Nora again, I’m going to take it. No questions asked. Forget my no dating during baseball season rule.
“Everybody still doing okay over here?” A tall, redhead server asks as he approaches our table. “Nora’s tied up at the moment, but I’d be happy to box up any leftovers you’d like to take home.”
“That would be great. Thank you,” I say, handing him my plate. Then I quickly slip him my credit card.
“There you go, girls,” I say once he’s left. “Your good-for-nothing brother just treated you to breakfast.”
“Thank you, Brooks,” they say in annoying unison.
The server returns a few minutes later, styrofoam box and receipt in hand. “These are for you,” the server says, handing me the styrofoam box. I glance down and am surprised to see a name and a number scrawled across the top of the lid in black ink.
“From Nora,” he says softly in an attempt to avoid drawing attention to the box. Unfortunately, I’m related to three bats who are staring beadily in our direction.
“Thanks, man. And thanks for the meal. Always good.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. Come back and see us soon, okay?” he calls out cheerily, walking away. “Go Breakers!”
“What’s on the box, Brooks?” Caroline asks.
“Yeah, what does it say?” Claire strains to get a look.
I try to keep it away from my nosy sisters by pushing my chair back from the table and standing up. “Don’t worry about it.”
Caroline quickly swipes the box out of my grasp and darts towards Claire’s side of the table. Both girls gasp.
“It’s her number!” Claire says gleefully. “She gave you her number!”
“Who?” Mom asks.
“Nora Foster!” Caroline whispers hoarsely. “I hereby give my approval.” She stamps my box with her fist. “Hear, hear.”
“I second the motion!” Claire stamps the box with her own fist.
“Quit manhandling my box. You’re going to smash my leftovers.”
“Who cares about the food!” Claire cries, slinging her arm around me as we descend the stairs that lead down from the pier at Delia’s to the boardwalk that lines the harbor. “The only girlfriend of yours we’ve ever liked just gave you her number. This is a cause for celebration. Your bachelor days may finally be over!”
Claire then breaks out into a rousing chorus of “For He’s A Jolly Good Fellow” at full volume, dancing a ridiculous jig with her arm still clenched around my neck. I wince, hoping Nora didn’t hear a word of Claire’s less-than-subtle outburst.
I’m no stranger to the desperate attempts of women who spontaneously seize the opportunity to throw their name in my proverbial dating hat. It makes all the difference in the world having history with the beautiful girl who scrawled her number on my to-go box.
I can’t believe my luck. Who knew the opportunity to reconnect with Nora would come so soon after finding out that she’s no longer married? But there’s no way I’m about to let my meddling sisters see that Nora’s gesture has affected me. They will never let it go if they feel there’s any hope of the two of us reconnecting.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you both,” I say. “But baseball season isn't over yet. You know my policy.”
My sisters share a look that makes me feel like I just gave them the wrong answer.
“You’re an idiot if you don’t call her, Brooks,” Claire says. “Even more of an idiot than we all thought.”
“Thank you, Claire.”
I had made a huge mistake in allowing my dad to persuade me that staying with Nora would somehow prevent me from playing professional baseball. That mistake still haunts me in moments like this. I hate that I’d let him manipulate and control me the way he had.
Don’t worry, Claire, I think to myself. I don’t plan on being an idiot again.