22. ISABELLA
twenty-two
Things I learned last night:
Good wine doesn’t give you hangovers.
Mateo is an ice cream hog.
And everything about Anna’s birth mom.
Maria, a woman from Europe, who works in the art world.
Seems fitting that Anna has some creative blood in her, even if they’ve never met or spoken to each other.
I learned about how he met her at a charity afterparty and dated her casually for over a year. They’d see each other when she popped into town. How she found out she was pregnant and, after seeing Mateo’s instant paternal reaction kick in, offered to have the baby, with the understanding that she would not be a part of the child’s life, since she never planned on having children of her own.
Mateo went into detail about how he tried to convince her to co-parent, for Anna’s sake, once she was born. How he even proposed the idea of dating again to see if there was a chance of them being a real family.
But in the end, Maria wanted a clean slate and walked away. And Mateo vowed to respect her wishes—with more grace than I could muster if I were in his shoes. She signed away her parental rights once she was out of the hospital, and a boatload of legal documents to ensure that later down the line, she can’t pop in and threaten to take Anna away from him. Something he felt like she would never do, since he swore up and down that she truly was a kind person. But having a daughter changed him, and he made sure there was no box left unchecked when it came to ensuring he could keep his daughter safe in his arms.
She did leave behind a letter for Anna, for when she’s old enough to understand the circumstances around her origin story. Letting her know that although she couldn’t hold the role of Anna’s mother, she would leave an open door for her in the future, if she ever were to have questions or simply want to have a conversation.
By the end of the night, it seemed like Mateo needed to tell the story for his sake, more than mine.
And the way he was going to town on that dulce de leche gelato was quite the sight.
But as promised, no pity parties were allowed.
Any time I seemed to be on the brink of tears, he’d threaten to eat the rest of my pint of cookies and cream. When my lip quivered and I asked if I could give him a hug, he said he would reconsider the no strike peace treaty. But he gave me one anyway.
I’m pretty sure the hug lasted longer than appropriate, and I clung to him harder than a needy koala, but the way his face nuzzled into my neck makes me think he didn’t mind.
And when he walked me to my room, he tried to slip back into our previous roles by warning me not to be late to the game tomorrow and to make sure Anna and I wore matching jerseys.
Yet when I rolled my eyes at his request, his whispered “don’t test me” unexpectedly sent shivers down my spine.
So naturally, today, I must test him.
I know I’m not officially in the clear, but after last night, I really don’t think Mateo would fire me.
I mean, we freaking trauma bonded.
I smile as Anna hops into the car before me, wearing a very bedazzled jersey with her father’s name and number. She’s in jean shorts, a navy tank top, and converse. Dressed exactly like me, minus the bedazzling. We are even sporting matching Monarchs baseball hats—my idea, given that a bit of my bravado has faded from last night, and I feel like I could use the extra layer of armor against potentially curious stares.
The closer we get to the brand-new stadium, the antsier I get.
“Isa, you’re almost shaking the car with your leg. Do you have to go pee? I know where all the bathrooms are at the stadium,” Anna offers sweetly.
I push my hands down on my knees, forcing them to stop their incessant bouncing, and try to act as if I don’t feel Hank’s concerned gaze from the rearview mirror.
“Yeah, sorry. Forgot to go before we left. But it’s all good. We’re almost there, right, Hank?” I add a fake level of chipper to my voice.
“Just pulling in now, actually,” Charlie answers from the front seat.
It still feels weird to go everywhere with a security detail, but I’ve been able to crack a smile or two out of Charlie since we’ve met, so I consider that a win.
We pull up to a security gate, and Hank hands over a family pass lanyard. After a few guards circle the car and scan the bottom with extendable mirrors and other CIA-type gadgets, we’re cleared to pull in.
Hank parks by a large open area that resembles more of a loading zone than stadium entrance.
“It’s going to be a great game. I can feel it, Isabella. You make sure to enjoy yourself today, all right?” Hank says as he opens the door for me.
For a second, I wonder if he knows why I’m nervous.
Which leads to the other devastating side effect of my public humiliation.
The guessing game.
I never truly know who knows and who doesn’t. Who acts coy or dumb to simply spare my feelings.
Knowing that someone is actively trying to go out of their way to make sure I don’t feel bad actually makes me feel guilty. It’s a never-ending cycle that sometimes puts me in a funk for days on end.
But for now, I take in Hank’s kind eyes and words at face value. He’s right. This is going to be a great game, because we have two New York teams going head-to-head.
I take Anna’s small hand in mind and ask her to lead the way, even though it’s obvious that Charlie is leading and directing our every move now that we are out of the car.
Every so often, Charlie brandishes a badge, and doors are magically opened for us. The impressive experience of being able to walk through the behind-the-scenes areas of Monarch Stadium pushes my nerves to the back seat.
That is until we make it to the family suite that overlooks the field.
A stunning young woman meets us by the door. Her golden-brown skin glows in a way that tells me she’s been in the Caribbean sun recently. She’s dressed in what I recognize as a two-piece Chanel pantsuit and nude Louboutin heels. I discreetly look down at my scuffed Converses and wonder if matching a five-year-old’s outfit was really the right call.
“Hi, I’m Daisy.” The woman extends her hand to me while sporting a kind smile.
“Hi, I’m Isabella. Uh, Anna’s nanny,” I say nervously.
“Oh, I know who you are,” she says, giggling.
I freeze. It’s already begun. Fuck, this was a bad idea.
I clear my throat as I take my clammy hand back and subtly start rubbing it against my jean shorts.
“Anna here hasn’t stopped talking about you since she took that trip to the Dominican Republic. Isn’t that right, Anna?” she says smoothly, not noticing my current freakout.
Wait, what?
“Yes, and when Papi told me you’d be my nanny, I told him to tell Daisy immediately, since she’s one of my favorite people here.”
I release a deep breath. The tightness around my chest loosens once I realize Daisy didn’t mean she knew who I was because of my past, and I almost chuckle to myself.
Almost, because the next questions banging down the front door of my brain are whether Daisy and Mateo are close and why it is that she is Anna’s favorite person here.
As I struggle to form the psychotic question in my mind, her gigantic engagement ring catches my attention. She sees me looking, and her smile dims a fraction. “Yeah, my fiancé went a bit overboard, didn’t he?”
“It’s beautiful. Breathtaking. Massive—”
“You could see this shit from space, Isabella.” She starts laughing in a manner that doesn’t quite match the wardrobe she’s currently donning.
I’m taken aback by a woman who suddenly looks like she’s wearing a costume. Her phone lights up in her hand, and it quickly quiets her laughter.
“Sorry about that. If your dad asks, I’ve never cursed around you. Got it, kiddo?” She nods at Anna, and Anna nods right back.
“Got it. Besides, you always get me the best snacks. Why would I snitch on you?” I tug on Anna’s ponytail and laugh at her humor.
“It’s not usually my job to greet the family members, but I knew you were coming with Anna, and I just had to stop by before all the action started. Hope you don’t mind.” Slight vulnerability slips through her tone, and I wonder how a woman in a power suit somehow seems intimidated by meeting me.
And then I recognize something in her eyes. Something I’ve seen mirrored in my own reflection for years now.
She looks like she could use a friend.
I could be wrong, but I decide there’s no harm in taking the leap anyway.
“Thank you so much for stopping by. This is my first time here, so I’m a newbie.” I hesitate for a moment, hoping I’m reading the room correctly. “Listen, totally feel free to say no—I know we literally just met—but if you’d like, maybe we could exchange numbers and—”
“Yes. Absolutely!” She coughs slightly. “I mean, yeah, totally. Sorry, got a bit ahead of myself there for a second.” She laughs awkwardly. “I’m still kind of new to the city and don’t have many friends my age, so it’d be nice to hang out.” A slight panic flashes over her eyes. “Unless you only wanted to exchange numbers for game-related purposes, which is totally fine as well.”
I shake my head as I smile. I really shouldn’t derive an ounce of pleasure from seeing this sweet woman so flustered. But a teeny tiny part of me—okay maybe not that tiny—finds a form of comfort in knowing there are other women out there that are maybe just as lost as I am in the world and don’t have their entire lives perfectly put together.
Makes me feel like I’m not so alone in this journey I seem to be taking.
“Oh, I meant full-on hanging out. I don’t have many girlfriends either… actually, that’s changed recently. There’s even a group chat created and working on planning a girls’ night that should be happening soon. I don’t know if you’d be interested in that, but you’re more than welcome to join us if you’d like.”
I swear her eyes almost glass over before she composes herself and nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, that sounds incredible, actually. Here.” She thrusts her phone into my hand, and I dial my number into it, then call myself. Once my screen lights up, I lift it and say, “Okay, got it.” I end the call and hand her back her phone as I start saving her contact information. “I’m Isabella Morales, by the way. Unless you want to save me as Isabella Nanny or whatever works best for you.”
“Isabella Morales,” she murmurs as she types. “Got it.”
“And you’re Daisy…”
She cringes a bit before whispering something I can’t make out.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your last name. What was it again?”
I can see the wheels turning in her head until a look of resignation takes over her face and she says, “Stonehaven. My name is Daisy Stonehaven.”
Ho-ly shit.
For a second, I contemplate playing it off like I don’t know the Stonehaven name, but then I realize I’d be doing what I hate being done to me. So I keep it honest.
“I’m not going to lie. For a split second I was going to play dumb and act as if I’ve never heard that name before, but I know a thing or two about name notoriety, so I’ll spare you the bullshit and let you know that I’m aware of who you must be.”
She chuckles as her shoulders drop a fraction. “Thanks for your honesty. It’s refreshing in a place like this.” She waves around the state-of-the-art entryway leading up to what I can only assume are just as impressive suites.
I type in her very famous last name, then slip my phone into my back pocket. I’m aware of an increasingly antsy Anna at my side. She’s probably trying to hurry up and get into the family suite so she can put a dent in the snack selection. But in true nosy-Isa form, I have to ask.
“So does that mean that your…” I start.
She smiles. “My older brother, Nick. He’s the new owner of the Monarchs, as per our grandfather’s living will.” She smirks at some kind of inside joke I’m not privy to.
Must be a joke rich people make, because who the hell inherits a whole baseball team?
Billionaires, that’s who.
Because even though Nicholas Stonehaven comes from money, word on the street is that he cut all ties with his father, and at thirty-four, he’s turned himself into the youngest self-made billionaire in the world. He’s also the world’s hottest Black billionaire according to every magazine publication. And that’s a title I can easily agree with. Because hot damn.
Yet Nick Stonehaven is a mystery to the world. We know he has a very white and very British father who’s a big player in the business world. But we know nothing of his mother, the woman who clearly gave him all his good looks, given that his father’s face is permanently stuck in a manner that suggests that he’s just sucked on a lemon.
And given he’s grown up in various boarding schools across the world, there’s no pinning exactly where his roots come from.
Listen, I’m not proud of knowing all this background information, but while doom scrolling, searching for my name on the internet, his name popped up more than a few times, so sue me.
“Well, I’ll be inheriting an overactive kindergartener if I don’t let her loose in that suite any second now.” I laugh as Anna rolls her eyes.
Oh, her father is going to love that.
“So… are we still on? For, like, texting and girls’ night?” Daisy asks shyly.
“Listen girl, the only thing your last name changes is me not feeling bad if you offer to pay for my slice of pizza.” I wiggle my eyebrows playfully.
A relieved look comes over her face as she nods. “First slice on me, promise.”
“But please don’t feel like your wallet is what brings value to me and my girlfriends. I promise it doesn’t. As long as you have a sense of humor and don’t mind having friends who love having inappropriate conversations, then you’re golden,” I add quickly. “And spoiler alert,” I whisper. “I’m the one who starts all the inappropriate conversations.” I wink.
She smiles widely. “Sounds like I’ve met my perfect crew.” She goes to wave us in, but stops abruptly. “Oh, I almost forgot.” She pulls two tickets out of her immaculate pantsuit and hands them to me. “In case you want to get close to the action, these seats are right up front, off to the side of the Monarchs’ dugout. We always set them aside in case Anna wants to go down and say hi to her dad before or after the game.”
Seats out in the open, right by the dugout? Absolutely not.
But I smile politely anyway. “Thanks, but I’m pretty sure we’ll stay up here and stick by the free food.” I nod toward the long table lined with food that I’ve already let Anna make a beeline for.
Daisy nods. “Sure thing, but um… maybe keep them close in case you change your mind.” She squeezes my wrist with a secret smile, then turns on her heels back toward the elevators that must lead to the executive suites.
I shake off the foreboding feeling Daisy left behind and enter the suite to find Anna stacking her plate sky high. Mini stadium dogs, nachos, fries, and other fried foods I can’t make out from the pile she’s created.
“Think you got enough there, kiddo?”
“For now.” She shrugs.
We walk over to a high-top table, and I help her scoot up so she can eat comfortably. I’ve been so focused on Anna and her truly impressive food choices that I’ve neglected to take in my surroundings.
And by the time I do, I fear I’m a bit too late.
Apparently, I’ve entered WAG headquarters, and I didn’t even know it.
Everyone seems to be wearing some version of tight patent-leather pants, racy tops, sky-high boots with matching designer bags, and professionally done hair and makeup.
And all their eyes are on me.
I smile in their general direction and try to play it cool by focusing on Anna. But it’s hard to start up a conversation with a kid who’s currently inhaling food.
Finally, someone I assume must be the queen bee makes her way over.
“You’re new. Are you the girlfriend or the nanny… or both?” Her tone, fake as her hair, drips in condescension.
And here I thought these types of women were extinct. The kind that somehow still derive pleasure from another woman’s discomfort instead of opting to play on the same team.
Unluckily for her, she caught me at a moment when I’m with Anna. Any other time, and I may have cowered and just moved it along, but I’ll be damned if I let Anna see that. She deserves to see better role modeling.
Which is also why I am trying to desperately filter through all the bad words I shouldn’t be using in front of a five-year-old.
“Excuse me. I think the words you were looking for sound a little bit like ‘hi, my name is blank. What is yours?’ Maybe even add in a ‘nice to meet you and welcome’ if you’re feeling truly wild.” I give her my scary Dominican mom smile, the one that taunts “just wait until we get home.”
I can sense Anna paying very close attention to us, even though she hasn’t abandoned her quest for food.
Shock flashes across the newcomer’s slightly paralyzed face, but she recovers quickly. “My apologies. Where are my manners? I’m Lexi. My fiancé is number fifteen on the opposing team.” A jersey number, not a name. Dear God, put me down right about now. “I know this is the Monarch pitcher’s daughter, and we’ve never seen anyone besides her grandmother bring her to a game. It’s why we’re all so curious.”
I look around and see that most of the other women are waiting with bated breath for my response. I swear one of them is ready to live report this interaction to gossip blog sites as I speak. Which reminds me of where I am and why I should be keeping a low profile instead of bringing this Stepford wife wannabe down a peg.
“Of course. Well, Lexi, nice to meet you. I’m Isa and this is Anna. And if curious minds must know, I’m her nanny.” I barely grit out that last part, since they are entitled to none of it.
“And my bestie,” Anna chirps in between bites.
“So nice to meet you, Liza.”
“Isa.”
“Right. That must be nice, being a nanny for a Monarch. How did you manage to get such a gig? My sister would love to get an opportunity to work for one of the top guys on the team. Where did you apply? And you must come to more games and tell us all about working for Mateo. You must have so many juicy stories to tell.”
I swear the woman has fangs. Or poorly made veneers.
Either way, I’ve seen and heard more than enough.
“Thanks for the warm welcome, truly. But Anna and I just stopped by quickly to fuel up before we head down to our seats.”
She plasters on a disgusted face. “As in down there? With all the fans?”
“Yep, we are definitely one with the people around here.” I nudge Anna out of her seat. Luckily, she’s been glued to our interaction and isn’t giving me any pushback.
“But there’s no open bar down there,” a woman behind me shrieks.
“And you might get hit by a foul ball,” another exclaims.
“One could only hope,” I mutter under my breath. “Sorry, ladies. We’ll have to catch up another time. I gotta get this little gal down to her father. Until next time!” I lift Anna’s hand and force her to wave as I shamefully use her little body as a human shield and back us out of the suite.
Once we’re out and safe from the firing line, I hear Charlie chuckle by the door.
“Lasted longer than I thought you would.”
I point a threatening finger in his direction. “You knew.”
He shrugs, keeping his hands behind his back as he scans our surroundings. “It’s my job to know where all the threats are, Isabella. But I figured you could handle the piranhas on your own.” I can see he’s trying to suppress a smirk.
I lower my voice as I lean in close. “Next pancake party, no pancakes for you, sir.” I take out the tickets that Daisy left for us and remind myself to send her a lightly threatening text later for not giving me a better warning either. What better way to start a friendship, right? “Now please lead us out of the lion’s den.” I give him the tickets, and he smiles slightly as he takes them.
I was so determined to get as far away from those women that I momentarily forgot where I was running to.
As we step deeper into the stadium seats, the infectious energy starts to rub off on me. From the crowd-pleasing music to the smell of stadium food and beer. I take a moment to look out into the stands and spot couples, families, and buddies in an array of New York Monarchs gear, all gathered together to enjoy this incredible sport of baseball.
I spot so many father-daughter dates, and my mind can’t help but flash back to the countless games I attended with my dad and how those games are some of my most cherished memories.
I thought walking back into a space like this would send me into a tailspin, thinking of every terrible word this world spoke of me. Instead, I find myself getting nostalgic about all the things I missed.
And when you’re standing in a stadium full of thousands of people, you start to feel silly, thinking that everyone would somehow have their eyes on you. The internet has a cruel way of making it seem like the world is against you. But right here, right now, in this stadium, I feel like I’m a part of the crowd. For the first time since arriving, I allow myself to take a deep breath and release all the pregame jitters.
Until we make it to our seats.
Daisy wasn’t lying when she said we would be up front.
We are sitting in the first row off to the side of the dugout, and there is literally a small gate in front of us that would provide access to the impressive field. Guarded by stadium security and, now, Charlie.
I do notice some low murmurs around us. People wondering who we are and why we arrived with our own security. But those whispers quickly turn to shouts when the Monarchs start making their way toward the dugout, being done with their warm-ups.
“There he is. There’s Papi.” Anna jumps as she points to the reason we’re here today.
Number thirty-five, looking every bit a titan in his freshly pressed baseball uniform, slowly making his way to the dugout while chatting with Coach Weston.
He hasn’t spotted us yet, probably since he assumes we’ll be watching the game from the family suite. So I do what everyone else in this stadium is doing and openly check him out.
I mean, come on , baseball pants on a Puerto Rican man?
I can’t be judged for how my eyes eat up every inch of him. I’m only human, after all.
Even though I felt like we truly reached a new level of friendship and understanding last night, it doesn’t mean I suddenly became blind overnight.
Fans yell his name, shout anything they can to get his attention, but he doesn’t break stride as he continues his conversation.
It’s a bit mind-boggling, being here and seeing firsthand how the world reacts to the man who had pizza and ice cream with me last night. Who held my hand and listened so intently as I recalled a piece of my past, a piece that’s starting to ache less the more I revisit it.
I wonder if he knew how much it meant for me to have someone just listen. To sit in the moment with me without trying to chime in with a positive spin.
It was a shitty situation, and it’s okay to let it be that. There’s no need to rebrand my story. I just have to continue working on growing from the experience.
I hope I’m able to tell him one day how much I appreciated the fact that he felt compelled to share a piece of his story as well, even though he didn’t have to. Although there was a slight downside to him opening up.
I fear my little crush has grown into a full-blown attraction.
Before, I could feign innocence, blame my reaction to him purely on his looks or the power he exudes on the field.
But now? I’ve seen a vulnerable side to him. A side that didn’t hesitate to share his raw feelings, not holding back in an attempt to appear macho or spew toxic masculinity.
I was able to see how much integrity he has. How much loyalty he gives to the ones he loves and protects. And how much depth he hides behind the mask of fame and fortune.
I used to think he purposely played up the mysterious baseball player card when in interviews. I now guess it’s more about him feeling comfortable around the person he’s talking to in order to open up. To think that I could now be one of those people makes me a bit giddy and a bit protective of him. Which is hilarious, given our size difference.
And apparently, he unlocked a new kink for me.
Grown-ass men eating gelato on the couch . Who knew?
But seeing him here? In his domain? Yep. I’m definitely in trouble.
I’ve been trying so hard to make sure I keep this job, but now I’m starting to wonder if my growing feelings for Mateo and I will ever survive it.
Just as he’s about to step down into the dugout, Anna gives an impressive shout for his attention.
I can only imagine some parental sixth sense alerted him, because the roaring of the crowd around us must have made it impossible for him to hear her.
Yet within a few quick sweeps, his eyes find Anna and then land on me.
And I swear the ground begins to shake.
No, really, it does.
Since the fans behind us go wild when they realize Mateo is making his way straight to us.
Hats, jerseys, and baseballs enter my periphery as they try to reach closer to see if they can get anything signed. I wrap my arms around Anna to make sure she doesn’t get knocked over. The gate guard notices and waves for us to stand as he opens the gate slightly.
Now would be a great time for me to stand and unclench my ass cheeks, but Mateo’s penetrating gaze leaves my knees feeling a little weak.
Eventually, Charlie moves in and gives me a hand, probably assuming I missed the other security guard’s prompt rather than realizing I’m trying to calm down my nervous lady bits.
We make it to the gate, and once Charlie and the other guard cover our backs, it’s fully opened for us.
For a second, I forget about it all.
Mateo, the curious stares, the maddening, intrusive thoughts in my head.
All of it.
Once my scuffed-up shoes touch the field, all I see is the impressive stadium in all its glory.
For all the games I’ve watched in person or on TV, I’ve never had the vantage point from down on the field.
Seeing the crowd from this angle, the dugout and the thousands of bright lights that are primed, ready, and pointed our way for when the sun set is simply a magical experience.
One I’ll never forget.
I’m pulled from my thoughts when Mateo steps up to me, Anna already in his arms. He searches my face intently, something I’m starting to notice he does when he’s concerned. He brings up a gloved hand and speaks into it. “You doing okay?”
I smile awkwardly and nod. “Yep. Just another day at the office, right?” His eyes continue their perusal for signs of distress. He’s about to say something else when I interrupt him. “I’m fine. I promise. Things will probably feel a little more normal when the mob behind me calms down after you walk away, Martinez .” I aim for levity.
He looks behind me, and as if it’s only now registered that there’s an entire section of fans there, he takes a sizable step back.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring attention to you. I’ll be more conscious next time.” He puts Anna down softly. “You want to go back up to the family suite? I can have Daisy called down here to get you.”
I’m about to tell him it’s fine and he’s overreacting, when all of a sudden, my feet leave the ground, and the air is sucked out of my chest.
The noise level behind me reaches another level of insanity, and I firmly believe that I should have invested in earplugs.
“ Isabella !”
My initial panic and confusion morph into muffled laughter when I realize who has fully bulldozed into me. “Put me down, you goofball.”
“Torres, really, man?” Mateo yells as he stands next to us, hands on his hips.
“What? It’s been forever since I’ve seen her. You’ve been hogging her too much. Give the girl a day off or something so she can hang out with cool people like my wife and me.” He sets me down softly, throwing a wink Mateo’s way.
It feels like they’re having a whole conversation with their eyes, and if I didn’t sense some simmering tension, I might have found it super impressive.
Anna gets all of our attention by spinning and showing off her bejeweled jersey. “Papi, look. Isabella helped me add all the Monarch colors. I have navy, white, and maroon.”
“Dang, girl. You’re looking fly. Give Tío Torres a spin. Let me see it again.”
Without pause, Anna twirls until she gets dizzy, causing the slight scowl to leave Mateo’s face.
“I love it, mija. It’s my new favorite jersey of yours.” He smiles as his daughter preens under the compliment. Then his eyes find mine, and he nods my way. “Go on, your turn.”
My brows furrow. “For what?”
His lips twitch as he tries to maintain an unreadable face. “C’mon, Anna showed off her jersey, so it’s your turn now. Go ahead and give us a little twirl.”
My eyes widen as Torres belly laughs.
Two seconds ago, Mateo was ready to send me back up to the family suite, away from prying eyes. But after Torres shows up, he wants me to, what, twirl for him in one of the nation’s most famous stadiums?
“That’s a hard pass.” I cross my arms over my chest.
Mateo matches my stance and shrugs. “All right, I’ll wait.” He looks up and around me. “Not like I have seventy thousand people waiting for me to go and do my job or anything.” His smug smirk makes me want to march closer and slap it off his face.
And by slap, I mean kiss really, really hard.
I know my eyes are conveying every Spanish insult known to man, because it just kicks up his smile.
So without further ado, I open my arms, letting my unbuttoned jersey hang loosely off my body, then slowly turn in place.
“Happy now?” I say as I finally end my rotation, only to find Mateo’s mouth agape and Torres howling with laughter as he runs circles around us.
“Really, Isa? Really?” Mateo asks, seeming genuinely affronted by my jersey.
“She looks like a million bucks, man!” Torres comes and lands a wet smooch on my cheek. “Love you, Isa. Thanks for always repping the Torres household. Anna, quick. Take a picture of us so I can send it to Denise before they take my phone away.”
Anthony and I quickly pose, my back to the camera as he points to his last name on my jersey. Anna happily snaps more than enough photos.
I want to laugh at Mateo’s reaction, I really do, but the man seems honest-to-God bothered by the fact that I’m wearing my friend’s jersey.
The same jersey I went out and bought the second I heard the news that he was signing with the Monarchs. Because even though I was an absentee friend, I still wanted to find a way to support the people I love, even when I needed a little extra time to work on myself.
Coach Weston, who—holy hell—looks like a sexy, unkept lumberjack, yells for Martinez and Torres to “get their asses in the dugout.”
I grab Anna’s hand to walk us back to our seats, but not before I feel Mateo’s presence behind me. He whispers roughly, “This ain’t over.”