Chapter Thirty-Four #2
I gaze directly into her eyes and speak from the heart.
"Amy, I had this whole speech prepared. But standing here looking at you, I realize no script could capture what I feel for you.
I came to you broken—a pitcher who'd lost his confidence, his fastball, and his way.
But you saw something worth saving. You pushed me harder than anyone ever has, believed in me when I couldn't believe in myself. "
I take a moment to gather my remaining thoughts, but Amy doesn't seem to mind the small delay. As I gaze deeply into her eyes, I can feel her love like a palpable force. I give her hands a light squeeze.
"Before you, baseball was just about me—my stats, my career, my ego.
You taught me it's about something bigger.
It's about trust and teamwork and fighting for something together.
" I suck in a breath, releasing it in a rush.
"That's what I'm promising you today. To be your teammate in everything.
To have your back in every inning of our life together. "
A tear slides down Amy's cheek, but her smile never wavers. That's my coach—emotional but unbreakable.
"I love you, Amy Keller. Not just because you saved my career, but because you made me want to be better—as a player and as a man."
Amy's eyes shine with unshed tears, but her voice is unwavering as she begins her vows. Pure Amy, composed under pressure. She twines her fingers with mine. "Charlie Braddock, when the team brought you in, I saw a pitcher with a million-dollar arm and a ten-cent head."
The crowd laughs, and I can't help but join them. It's true.
"I thought I could fix your mechanics. I never expected you to fix my heart.
" Her voice softens. "I've spent my life studying the science of this game—velocity, spin rate, release points.
But loving you? That defies all analysis.
"You taught me that sometimes the most beautiful plays aren't the ones you diagram on a clipboard.
They're the ones that happen when you trust someone enough to improvise. "
Suddenly, I've got a lump in my throat. But it feels…good.
Amy's lip curl into the sweetest smile. "I promise to be your biggest fan and your toughest critic.
To celebrate your wins and help you through the losses.
To build our team—our family—with the same dedication we bring to the field every day.
And I promise never to call time out when the game gets tough. "
The officiant seems genuinely moved. "The rings, please."
My best man hands them over, and I slide the simple platinum band onto Amy's finger right in front of the engagement ring. She slips my ring on, tears glistening in her eyes. The weight of the ring feels right, like the perfect grip on a baseball—something that belongs there.
"By the power vested in me," the officiant says, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."
I don't hesitate. I haul Amy into me, one hand at her waist, the other cradling her face. Our lips collide, and the crowd erupts in cheers and applause. I can pick out the distinct whoops and hollers of my teammates, who aren't exactly known for their subtlety.
When we finally peel our lips apart, Amy says, "Nice execution, Braddock."
"I had a great coach."
We whirl around to face our guests as the officiant announces, "Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Braddock!"
We walk down the aisle hand in hand, showered with flower petals and cheers.
The reception flows by in a blur of champagne toasts, cake cutting, and first dances.
Amy moves with the same precision on the dance floor as she does in the dugout, following my lead with an ease that makes me look better than I am.
She licks a bit of frosting from my lips. "You're not half bad at this dancing thing, Mr. Braddock."
"I've been practicing. Didn't want to embarrass myself in front of my coach."
Her laughter is like a perfect pitch—clean, precise, and it hits me right in the heart.
Later, as the night winds down, we find a quiet moment on the balcony overlooking Jacksonville's twinkling skyline. The St. Johns River shimmers in the moonlight, reminding me of all those late-night runs I used to take when I was trying to get my arm back in shape.
I slide my arm around her waist. "Happy, Mrs. Braddock?"
Amy leans into me, her head resting against my shoulder. "Beyond happy. Though I'm already thinking about spring training."
I grin, because of course she is. "Can't we enjoy the honeymoon first?"
She laughs. "I suppose I'll allow that."
My sister Lauren appears at the edge of the balcony. "Come on, you two. It's time to start your honeymoon—if either of you will tell us where you're going. You've been awfully secretive about it."
We let Lauren shepherd us away from the balcony and back to the main reception area. Then my sister shoves two fingers in her mouth to issue an earsplitting whistle. "Listen up, folks! Charlie and Amy will now reveal their honeymoon destination."
My bride and I exchange glances and shrugs.
Kaitlyn rushes up to us. "Please tell us. It must be someplace glamorous."
"Okay, okay, we'll tell you." I look at Amy just as she looks at me, and I know we're thinking the same thing. In unison, we shout, "Cooperstown, of course!"
Everyone laughs and cheers.
We'll do the Caribbean thing for our first anniversary. But baseball is in our blood, and there's no place we'd rather start our marriage than in Baseball's Hometown.