Chapter 32
After packing a bag and running from the penthouse, I got in my car and started driving.
I could’ve stayed in another room at the hotel, but I didn’t feel right about being in the same building as Grant and not talking to him.
I also just need my friend, which is how I find myself pulling into Gabby’s driveway.
We haven’t talked since Chase and Miller got into a fight at the game the other night, so I hope she’s okay with me staying here.
Thankfully, the guys are on the road. Otherwise, I’d risk walking in on sexy times and I can’t stomach that right now, especially after my own attempt at seduction backfired so spectacularly.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” Gabby asks when she opens the door.
“Can’t a girl come visit her friend?” I attempt for lighthearted and fall somewhere near deflated.
She eyes me but doesn’t push. “Mmm, come on, I was about to order food.” Disappearing inside, I follow her to the kitchen where she has takeout menus spread out on the counter. I drop my bag by the stairs for later and join her in the open-concept kitchen.
“The fact that you don’t cook always surprises me,” I say.
“Why?”
“Well for one, you have this huge ass kitchen, and two, you’re more of a homebody than any of us, so it’s just funny to me.”
“Cooking for one is hard, and normally I’m too busy to worry about it.”
“What were you ordering tonight?” I peek over her shoulder at the menus she’s considering.
“I was debating between a salad or pizza.”
“Why not both? I could go for some pepperoni, and we could split the Greek salad.”
“Cheese sticks too?”
I scoff. “Like that’s even a question.” Gabby types in the order online and pours us both a glass of wine.
“The game doesn’t start for a bit. Do you want to go outside?” Something’s off about her too. She seems to be more introspective than usual.
“You know I love your porch.” I follow her out to the porch, sitting on the couch while she turns on the fan to combat the surprising September heat.
“How’s it going with Chase?” I ask.
She fidgets with the stem of the wine glass before sighing. “Not great right now.”
“What happened?” I take a sip of my wine and look out over the greenway across the street, trying to release the tension in my shoulders. Gabby’s street is always blissfully quiet and the sun setting casts a beautiful portrait.
“The fight with the catcher from Arizona. He recognized me from the island and figured out we were together.”
“Okay but to be fair, that’s a very unfortunate coincidence and not a conclusion anyone who didn’t know about your one-night stand would reach.”
“It only takes one person to go public to ruin everything,” she argues.
“There’s nothing to say he wouldn’t have used something else to rile Chase up. I mean, he took a swipe at Miller too because everyone knows you’re friends.”
That jackass catcher from Arizona is known for starting shit with batters everywhere. This wasn’t an isolated incident, but I can understand why it would feel like that to Gabby.
“Exactly. They’re using me to attack them and that’s not cool. It’s what I told him I was worried about to begin with. I’m not a cleat chaser, Tay.”
Wait. What? I’ve been called a cleat chaser once upon a time, but Gabby’s the furthest thing from that. She works for the team. She’s never even dated an athlete before, let alone any Troubadours player.
“Where the hell did that come from? We all know that.”
“Perception is reality and now that I’ve accepted the general counsel position, I need to be mindful of the optics. It doesn’t look good for me or the organization if I’m involved with a player.”
“So, what, you’re going to stop being friends with Miller and Preston too? You wear their jerseys to the game, not Chase’s. You’re not flaunting your relationship with the rookie.” I can’t keep the irritation out of my voice at the illogical conclusion she’s drawing.
“I doubt we’re in a relationship anymore anyway,” Gabby says, softly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
They’re solid. Despite keeping their relationship under wraps, it’s clear they’re head over heels for each other. Unlike me and Grant, Chase and Gabby communicate—at least I think they do.
“We had a fight before he left Sunday, and we haven’t talked about it.”
I sigh and shake my head. I love my best friend, but she is her own worst enemy.
Pot meet kettle. The inner voice in my head chimes in.
“Gabby, I love you, but you are the most self-sabotaging person I know. What was the fight about?”
“What I just told you. We were being careless and we got caught, so it’s better to end it now before we get in too deep.”
I reach for her hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. “Honey, you’re already in too deep and that man is in love with you.”
“He can’t possibly be. We don’t make sense together. He’s ten years younger than me and could have anyone he wants.” She pauses and takes a deep breath before looking at me. “You know what I noticed last weekend at the game? Before the fight and all that?”
“Can’t wait to hear this. Go on.”
“There were so many women in their twenties at the game. That’s a younger demographic than we’ve reached before and it’s all because of Chase.
You should’ve seen their faces whenever he did anything.
Literally all he has to do is exist for them to lust after him.
Trust me, I get it. Clearly it worked on me, but he could have any of them.
Someone without all these complications. Someone better than me.”
And yet, he only has eyes for her. Chase hasn’t so much as looked in another woman’s direction since the conference room.
He had women throwing themselves all over him at the horse patrol meet and greet and he still refused to take numbers or give in to their advances.
The same was true at Bark in the Park. Women followed him around like he was the puppy to be adopted and the only person he could see was Gabby.
I poke her knee. “First of all, there is no one better than you. Second, shouldn’t that be his choice? You’re making the decision for him when he’s made it perfectly clear that he’s in this with you.”
A lightbulb goes off in my head when I speak those words aloud.
“That’s the problem. He’s done nothing wrong, and I can’t get out of my own way.”
“So, you picked a fight because you were scared and hurt his feelings?” I sigh, knowing it’s exactly what I’ve done with Grant. “Look, I get it, but trust me, you don’t want to let a man like that go and then look back on this in a few years and wish you’d done things differently.”
I look back across the street, lost in my own mind.
It’s as if all the dark clouds part and the sky clears.
When I left Grant because of my endo diagnosis, when I didn’t tell him we likely wouldn’t be able to have kids, I took that choice away from him.
He could’ve still chosen for us to go our separate ways.
After all, that’s why I kept it to myself.
I didn’t want to hurt him. It’s such an impossible choice.
But, it’s a choice he should’ve been given the opportunity to make for himself. The outcome could have been the same, or it could have been different.
How much time had I wasted with him because I was too selfish and too scared to give him the whole truth about the downfall of our marriage?
How broken did I leave him thinking I chose my career over him? Or that his family was the sole reason I left?
And yet, here he was, still fighting for me—for us. All of it crashes into me with sudden clarity.
I fucked up.
I need to fix it.
When the food arrives, I’ve finished my glass of wine and accepted what I have to do.
Not tonight. Tonight things are too fresh, and Gabby needs me as much as I need her. But tomorrow, I’ll go back home and have the true honest conversation we should’ve had before I moved back in with him. Before I let him think I was only here for the short term, or the fun time.
Grant Davenport has owned my heart for the entirety of my adult life.
I think I’ve owned his too. If there’s any chance of us being together, of me not losing the best man I’ve ever known for a second time, I have to do everything in my power to make it work.
Even if it means, exposing all the scars I’ve kept hidden for years.
Back inside, Gabby and I settle on the couch with our pizza to watch the game. Chase steps up to the plate and looks as if he’s just going through the motions. His shoulders are slumped, and he takes a half-ass swing at the ball, striking out. He hasn’t struck out in weeks.
The camera pans to his face and the solemn expression as he walks back to the dugout has Gabby asking, “I really fucked up, didn’t I?”
“You sure did, but you’ll fix it.”
“I don’t know how,” she confesses.
“You’ll figure it out.”
We both will.