Chapter Six
Sunday morning, I’m lying in bed with my cup of tea.
It’s pit-tea party time.
Right now, Christian is on his way to the stadium for an
afternoon game, and immediately afterward, he’s headed to the airport with an
open-ended ticket. I know it’s a good thing for him, but selfishly, I want the
trainer to be here in LA so we don’t have to say goodbye.
“Knock, knock,” Jen says from outside my bedroom door. “Can
I come in?”
“That depends. Do you have waffles?” I ask miserably.
“No, but I have giant chocolate chip muffins. And
cheesecake.”
Now she has my attention.
“Come on in.” I sit up a little straighter, but I know I
don’t look my best.
“Hey, you,” she says as she carefully opens the door.
Holding up a pastry box with a sympathetic smile, she sits at the foot of my
bed and gets comfortable. “I figured you were having your sad tea party and
decided you needed some cake to go with it.”
I glance at the clock and see that it’s a little after nine.
“It’s a bit early for cheesecake.”
“Pfft. Why is it too early for cheesecake but not a muffin?
Or a cinnamon roll? Or a donut? I mean, why are we relegating the cheesecake to
the p.m. time?”
“You make a good point. Hit me with a slice.”
“Um, I’ll be right back. I forgot the plates.” She’s on her
feet. “And forks.” She dashes out of the room. “And napkins!” she calls.
While she’s gone, I put my tea on my bedside table before
opening the box and inhaling deeply.
Oh, sweet sugary goodness, how I love you.
Before I can profess my love, Jen’s back with her hands full
of everything we need for breakfast in bed.
I scoot closer to the wall and move the blankets aside.
“Join me,” I tell her.
She happily climbs in beside me and pulls the covers back up
over our laps. I rest my head on her shoulder as she hands me a plate with a
slice of cheesecake and a muffin. I take a forkful of cheesecake and hum in
appreciation.
“That’s the stuff,” Jen says after doing the same.
“Cheesecake is always there for you. It never leaves.”
“Oh, sweetie…”
I immediately think about last night.
Saying goodbye was harder than I thought it would be.
A part of me can’t believe I’m this attached and emotional
about a man I barely know. And yet, here I am.
Christian’s schedule was hectic the last couple of days, but
we managed to squeeze in an early lunch date before his game yesterday. It
wasn’t ideal, but we wanted to see each other one more time. We talk on the
phone every chance we get, but it was nice to see his face.
We met up at the café around the corner from my apartment,
and as soon as he spotted me, he walked over and kissed me on the cheek. “Hey,
Ella Rose,” he said softly, his lips lingering against my skin.
I love it when he does that. The warmth of him, his smooth
jawline…it’s like a magnet. And as usual, he smelled so darn good.
When he pulled back, he took my hand and led me to a table
in the corner that he had secured for us. I sat, surprised to see that he had
even ordered a cup of tea and a chocolate croissant for me.
“I remembered you telling me how much you love these,” he
said as he sat. His blue eyes, the ones that always look so kind and
comforting, looked sad.
So, he was feeling it, too.
There were so many things I wanted to say, but I couldn’t
seem to make myself say any of them. Mainly because it was about how much I
didn’t want him to go. I’d been torturing myself since Thursday night with the
entire situation. I knew it was something he had to do. Had to. His
future playing baseball depended on it. Which meant I couldn’t be selfish, no
matter how much I wanted to be.
Instead, I wrapped my hands around my tea, letting the heat
seep into my palms and keep me from reaching for him. Across the table,
Christian leaned back, his own cup untouched.
“A month,” he said softly, almost as if testing the words.
I tried to smile, but it wavered. “It’s not that long.”
“Feels like it could be.”
Something in the way he said it caught me off guard and made
my chest tighten. We’d only just begun—had barely scratched the surface of each
other’s lives—yet the thought of him being gone made the edges of the room
blur.
I stared down at the steaming, deep amber liquid in my cup. “You’ll
be back before I even realize it.” But my voice was quiet, betraying more than
I wanted it to.
Christian leaned forward, his forearms resting on the table
and his gaze steady. For a moment, the sounds of the café faded—no clattering
cups, no laughter at the corner booth, just the quiet press of his presence and
the space between us charged with something unspoken.
I swallowed hard, a lump rising in my throat. It
shouldn’t matter this much already, I thought. But it does.
“Are you sure you can’t come?” he asked, and I could hear
the want in his voice. The need.
“I…”
Reaching across the table, he placed one strong finger over
my lips. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s hard
enough without my putting pressure on you.”
Slowly, that same finger gently rubbed my lip before
completely falling away. Our gazes held, and I wasn’t sure where the
conversation could go from there. Fortunately, Christian did.
“My flight leaves tomorrow, right after the game. Even
though it’s a Sunday, I’m meeting with the trainers right away. We’ve already
talked on the phone several times and have a treatment plan in place, but they
want the chance to examine me before we hit the ground running on Monday.”
We lingered until our cups were empty and the café began to
fill with the afternoon crowd. I kept glancing at the clock, wishing I could
make time stall for a little longer. But I knew he needed to get going. He
still had stuff to do before the game.
When Christian finally stood, I rose with him, my chair
scraping lightly against the wooden floor. We stepped outside together, the
sound of the LA traffic a stark contrast to the low hum of conversation in the
coffeehouse.
His car was parked at the curb, but I knew he would walk me
home. Wordlessly, we headed that way. He was holding my hand, and I loved the
connection. As we walked, I looked up at the sky. It was afternoon, and there
weren’t any stars out, so I had to pretend I could make a wish on one.
I wish this next month flies by so Christian can come
home fast.
Even though it was a little awkward, I rested my head on his
shoulder as we walked. “So… a month,” I said again, my voice almost swallowed
by the passing rush of a bus.
Christian gave me a half-smile, though it didn’t reach his
eyes. “I’m aiming for three weeks.”
“That would be nice.”
“I’ll call you. We’ll text and video chat every day. Chances
are, you’ll get tired of me.”
I laughed softly, but it caught in my throat. “That’s not
even possible.”
We walked the rest of the way in silence, and when we
finally came to my building, we stopped, finally facing each other.
This was it.
He hesitated, then reached out and tucked a loose strand of
hair behind my ear. The gesture was simple, but it made my pulse stumble.
“Don’t forget me while I’m gone,” he said, quiet enough that only I could hear.
My chest ached as I forced a teasing tone, though I knew my
smile wavered. “You think you’re that easy to forget?”
Our eyes held for a beat too long. Then, before I could say
anything else—before I could do something reckless—he pulled me in close. “I’m gonna miss you, Ella Rose.” And then he kissed me. It was
slow and tender, and my arms went around him, holding him as close as I could.
I had no idea how long we stood there, kissing under the bright California sun,
but when we finally broke apart, I was shaking and willing myself not to cry.
I failed because, suddenly, he was gently brushing the tears
off my cheeks. Swallowing hard, I took a small step back. “Have a safe flight.
Text me when you land, okay?”
“I’d like to call you tonight after the game, if that’s
okay. I love hearing your voice as I’m drifting off to sleep.”
I sniffled. “Me, too.”
He nodded. “Let me walk you inside.”
I shook my head. “I’m fine. Really. You need to go.”
“Are you sure?”
I forced myself to nod. He kissed me one last time, soft and
lingering, before turning and walking away. I stood there on the sidewalk, the
hum of the city around me, already feeling the emptiness of the space he left
behind.
My cell phone rings, jolting me back to reality. To today. I
can tell from the ringtone that it’s my mom. Jen recognizes it, too, because
she carefully scrambles from the bed to grab it for me.
“I’m taking my cake,” she whispers before blowing me a kiss
and leaving the room, closing the door behind her.
“Hey, Mom,” I say as I answer the phone, and I almost cringe
at how depressed I sound. “How are you?”
“Oh, my goodness. What’s wrong? Is it bad news? Did you lose
a role? Are you sick?”
I surprise myself by laughing a little. “I’m not sick, and
all of my roles are safe.”
“Hmm…okay. Are things going okay in general? Are you
homesick? Did you and Jen have a fight? It’s okay, you can tell me.”
I laugh a little
more. “Mom, everything’s fine. I promise. I always miss you, Dad, and everyone.
Jen and I were just having breakfast in bed, so…”
“Breakfast in bed?” she repeats, and I can hear the
confusion in her voice.
“I’m a little sad today, and Jen was trying to cheer me up.
She went and got us muffins and cheesecake, and I was drinking tea and—”
“Ah. The sad tea party. Okay. Okay.” She pauses for a second
before I hear her gasp. “Oh, sweetheart, why? Did your date to the premiere
with Christian not go well? I was trying not to bug you, but you have to know
I’ve been dying to call.”
“You know you can always call me. I love talking to you.”
“So, tell me what’s going on.”
I gingerly maneuver around on the bed, placing my plate next
to my teacup on the bedside table before fluffing my pillow and getting
comfortable. And then I tell her all about the last week. The first date, all
the conversations and phone calls with Christian afterward, the premiere, his
injury, and his going to Arizona for physical therapy.
“Oh, wow. That poor boy. You know he’s got to be a wreck