Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
I wake up super early, which is ridiculous because the cake decision isn't until ten. But my brain apparently thinks we need three hours and thirteen minutes to prepare for seeing Jay in daylight. You know, like a normal person does.
"Get it together, Tracy," I mutter to my reflection. "It's just cake. You've eaten cake before. You can handle cake."
My reflection looks skeptical. My reflection is probably right.
By the time Megan knocks on my door at nine, I've changed outfits four times (settling on a sundress that says "I'm helping with wedding decisions" not "I still remember you think I look pretty in yellow"), redone my ponytail three times (high says trying too hard, low says didn't try at all, middle is just right), and checked the MiLB app twice (Jay's ERA is down to 2. 74, not that I'm keeping track).
"Ready for cake?" Megan sings out. "I'm so glad you and Jay can come help us decide. Greg's stuck in meetings until noon, but I really need to finalize this today."
"Jay's coming?" My voice does that embarrassing squeaky thing again.
"Well, yeah. I invited a few people from the wedding party for opinions. Just you, Jay, and my friend Sarah. Small group so it's not overwhelming." She grins. "Plus, Jay said he has to leave by eleven for batting practice, so we can't take forever."
Of course he has batting practice at eleven. Game day batting practice for evening home games starts at 3:00, but he always goes early to work with Ted Brennan on their signs. Not that I remember his routine or anything.
The bakery is one of those trendy places with exposed brick and Edison bulbs, the kind that makes cupcakes look like fine art.
Sarah's already there, a bubbly blonde who immediately starts telling us about her kindergarten class.
I like her instantly, mostly because she provides excellent cover for not looking at the door every twelve seconds.
Then Jay walks in, and my carefully constructed "I'm totally fine" facade crumbles like a stale cookie.
He's in athletic shorts and a Stars t-shirt, clearly planning to head straight to the field after this. His hair is still damp from a shower, and he's got that focused look he gets on game days. The same look I used to love because it meant he was already visualizing his pitches.
"Sorry I'm late," he says, sliding into the seat across from me because apparently the universe hates me. "Coach called a morning meeting."
"No problem!" Megan chirps. "We're just deciding between these final four options. Greg and I narrowed it down months ago, but we need fresh opinions for the final choice."
The baker brings out four cake samples: classic vanilla with buttercream, red velvet with cream cheese frosting, lemon with raspberry filling, and chocolate with salted caramel.
"Oh, we should probably start with—" Megan begins.
"The vanilla," Jay and I say in unison.
We freeze. Megan's eyes narrow.
"I mean," I stammer, "vanilla is traditional. Makes sense to start there."
"Right," Jay agrees quickly. "Traditional."
We each take a bite of the vanilla. It's good, obviously, because this bakery has won awards. But Jay makes a tiny face that I recognize—the same one he used to make at dining hall vanilla cake. Too sweet for breakfast, he always said.
"What do you think?" Sarah asks.
"It's nice," Jay says diplomatically.
"Very... vanilla-y," I add helpfully.
Megan watches us like we're a science experiment. "Let's try the red velvet."
We work through the samples, and I'm doing great at being normal until we get to the lemon raspberry.
Jay takes a bite, and his eyes close in that way that means he's really savoring something.
My traitor brain immediately supplies the memory of him doing the exact same thing with my grandmother's lemon bars.
"This one," he says decisively. "This is the one."
"Really?" Megan asks. "You're sure?"
"Trust me. The combination is perfect. Not too sweet, interesting enough to remember, classic but with a twist." He glances at me. "Sometimes the best things are familiar with just a little surprise mixed in."
I choke on my cake.
"You okay?" Sarah pats my back while I cough.
"Fine! Just... went down wrong."
Jay pushes his water glass toward me, and our fingers brush when I take it. Because apparently, we're in a romantic comedy where even hydration is charged with meaning.
"I actually agree," Sarah says. "The lemon raspberry is special."
"Tracy?" Megan's watching me with her teacher face. "What do you think?"
What do I think? I think I'm having a breakdown in a bakery because Jay Talley still makes the same face when he eats lemon desserts.
I think my sister is two seconds from figuring out way more than I want her to know.
I think I need to get out of here before I do something stupid like cry into fancy cake.
"It's perfect," I manage. "Greg will love it."
"Great! Decision made!" Megan claps her hands. "See, I knew having you both here would help."
Jay checks his phone. "I should head out. Don't wanna be late for practice."
"Of course!" Megan beams. "We'll see you tonight at the game. Greg says first pitch is at seven?"
"Seven-oh-five," I correct automatically, then want to sink through the floor. "I mean, that's what I assume. Based on... normal baseball times."
Jay's mouth twitches. "Actually, it's seven-ten tonight. They moved it back for fireworks after."
"Fireworks!" Sarah exclaims. "How fun!"
"Yeah," Jay says, but he's looking at me. "Should be a good show."
He leaves with a wave, and I very carefully don't watch him go. I also don't think about how he still walks with that slight swagger when he's heading to the field, all quiet confidence and focused energy.
"So," Megan says the second he's gone. "Want to tell me why you knew his practice schedule?"
"I didn't?—"
"And why you both picked vanilla first?"
"Coincidence—"
"And why he pushed his water to you like it was the most natural thing in the world?"
"I was choking!"
"Tracy." She uses her serious teacher voice. "I know you dated, but this seems like more than just 'briefly dated a million years ago.'"
Sarah looks between us with interest. "Wait, you and the hot baseball player used to date? Girl, get that back!"
"Can we please just focus on your wedding?" I plead. "That's why we're here. Your wedding. Not my ancient history with—nothing. Not my nothing."
Megan lets it drop, but I can see her filing away every interaction for later analysis. We spend another half hour finalizing cake details, and I act like a normal person who doesn't have the Austin Stars schedule memorized.
Back at the house, I have six hours to kill before the game. Six hours to convince myself I can sit in a baseball stadium and pretend I don't know the difference between a curveball and a slider. Six hours to practice my "confused about sports" face in the mirror.
I'm on outfit change number three (casual but not trying too hard, interested but not invested) when Megan knocks.
"Come in," I call, wrestling with the Stars cap I definitely didn't buy at a gas station on the way home.
"Going for the fan look?" She flops on my bed. "Very supportive."
"It's sunny. I need a hat."
"Uh-huh." She watches me adjust the brim for the fifteenth time. "You know, if you wanted to tell Jay how you feel?—"
"I don't feel anything. I'm completely feelingless. I'm here to support your wedding and watch a sport I barely understand."
"Tracy, you have his baseball card tucked into your mirror."
I spin around. Sure enough, there's Jay's rookie card wedged into the frame, right where I stuck it after unpacking. "That's... that's..."
"From five years ago. Which means you've been carrying it around since college." She sits up. "Tracy, what really happened between you two?"
I sink onto the bed beside her. "It doesn't matter. We wanted different things."
"Did you though?" She bumps my shoulder. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you both wanted each other."
"His dreams were bigger than staying in one place. I couldn't ask him to give that up."
"Did he ask you to?"
I don't answer, because the truth is he didn't. He asked me to come with him. To figure it out together. To believe that love was enough to handle the uncertainty. And I was too scared to try.
"Well," Megan says when I stay quiet, "maybe you get a second chance. Not everyone does."
She leaves me alone with my thoughts and my perfectly adjusted Stars cap. By the time we pile into cars to head to Dell Diamond, I've convinced myself I can do this. I can be casual. I can be calm. I can pretend my heart isn't racing at the thought of seeing Jay on the mound again.
The stadium is exactly as I remember from the one time I came here during college—intimate enough to see everything, big enough to feel professional. We have seats behind the Stars dugout, close enough to see the players' faces. Close enough for Jay to spot us during warmups.
"This is so fun!" Megan bounces in her seat. "I love baseball games in person. So much better than watching on TV."
"Plus, dollar hot dog night," Greg adds, returning with an armful of concessions.
I watch the Stars take the field for warmups, my eyes automatically finding Jay.
He's stretching along the first-base line with Ted Brennan, and they're clearly going through their signs.
Ted touches his mask. Jay nods. Ted taps his chest protector twice.
Jay shakes his head and suggests something else with his glove.
"Look, there's Jay!" Megan points unnecessarily. "Should we wave?"
"No!" I say too quickly. "I mean, he's working. Probably needs to focus."
But Jay's already looking our way. His eyes find mine across the field, and for a moment, it's five years ago. Same ritual, same feeling. He touches the brim of his cap in a tiny salute, and I have to remind myself to breathe.
"Aw, he waved!" Sarah coos. "That's so sweet."