Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Savannah

A few minutes after the game ends—the Peaches scraped out a win over Washington, Brayden with a single, a hit by pitch, and a long fly ball that died a few feet short of being a home run—my phone buzzes twice.

Brayden: I’m going out

Not exactly surprising. From a few chairs away, Lexi is gathering her things. She pauses occasionally to peer over at what I’m typing. Well, that’s one way to stay informed about team business. I try to discreetly cover my phone with my hand as I type.

Me: k

Brayden: You want to come?

Well…that’s new. I’m not dressed to go out. I did my hair and makeup, but I’ve been watching the game in lounge pants and sneakers. I don’t know what Brayden’s like when he’s at the bar, but he’s probably not hanging out with girls in sweatpants.

My phone buzzes again—Brayden rescinding his offer? I glance at the sender, then cover my phone a little more with my hand.

AA: How’s the head?

Me: Still attached

AA: How’s the headache?

Me: Better, thank you

AA: What’re you doing now?

I peer at the question for a minute. Why are you asking? I type and erase.

Me: Bray’s going out

AA: I know

So…he’s texting me knowing Brayden won’t be home. I won’t think anything of that, even as my cheeks go slightly warm. I look up—Lexi is still gathering her things…slowly.

I need to answer Brayden, so I do.

Me: I’m not dressed to go out

Brayden: You look fine

But of course, he’d left the house before I got ready for the game, and I haven’t sent him any pictures other than asking if he had a preference in the kind of pasta sauce I got at the grocery store. He didn’t.

Me: You don’t know what I’m wearing.

Brayden: You look fine.

Was he being insistent or flirting or both? I can’t tell. Do you even like me? That was a question for someone you have a crush on, not someone you’re married to. I should go out with him. I tell myself it’s that—and not the low tug of curiosity in my belly—that makes me text Asher.

Me: Going out tonight

AA: Sure. Have a good night, Mrs. Forsyth.

Me: It’s not like that.

AA: Then what is it like?

Complicated. I don’t respond. I just touch up my lipstick and tell Brayden I’ll be there in a few minutes and walk toward the clubhouse like a dutiful wifey would. If I try hard enough, I can almost pretend this is real.

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