Epilogue
Sophie
I’m waiting in the players’ parking lot, sitting on the hood of my old Audi, wearing my Cubs jersey—the official one with Blake embroidered across the back. After Liam finished last season, the Cubs signed him to a one-year contract. And Liam is thrilled.
He’s already in talks with KNbr about joining their commentating team when his current contract expires—or staying on with the team as a batting coach. Or whatever else comes next for him. Whatever opportunity it may be, it will be a move forward.
We spent the off-season setting up our home together—a little understated cottage in Pacifica.
Even a year and a half’s baseball salary meant we could have gotten something bigger, something flashier, but this place is perfect for us.
It has a small but lovely kitchen, and Cal bought us a fancy espresso machine as a housewarming gift, which Liam still can’t use.
Liam started a garden in the back and fixed up the small shed into my artist’s studio.
It’s close to his mom and my parents, as well as the community center where we both still volunteer. Liam works with the teens and Coach Bill whenever he’s in town, and I teach a weekly children’s art class. That is, between working on the steady flow of commission requests.
Senator Langford loved the new concept I pitched to her.
She said the skyline reminded her of growing up in the Bay Area, and she wholeheartedly wanted me to continue the commission with my vision.
After she mentioned my art during her book tour and emphasized the importance of supporting artists, requests started pouring in.
However, I only say yes to the ones that truly inspire me —the ones I genuinely want to do.
“Is that major league baseball phenom, Liam Blake? Fresh off another win?” I say when Liam walks into the parking lot, bag slung over his shoulder.
“I’d hardly call it a phenom, more like a thirty-two-year-old utility player with a bum knee,” he says, but he’s smiling proudly.
“Is that artist Sophia Rhodes, whom the San Francisco Chronicle recently named ‘one to watch in the SF art scene’?” he adds, kissing me as he steps between the V of my legs.
“Just Sophie is fine,” I say, kissing him back. “Should I feel guilty for not feeling bad that the Giants lost?”
“Nah, even I feel a little guilty,” he adds, slinging his bag into the back seat. “Let’s get out of here.” He’s off for three days before he has to meet the team in the next city. And we already plan on spending the entire time tangled around each other in our bed.
But I have another idea first.
“I think we should celebrate your win here, Mr. Blake,” I say, tipping my head toward the back seat. Liam had shared a dream he’d had in those early days at Cal’s about me and the backseat after a win, and I planned on making that dream come true tonight. And as many times as I can this season.
“You’re already a fucking dream come true,” he laughs, scooping me into his arms and opening the door.
I always thought love would feel more dramatic. Turns out, it just feels like finally being me.