24. Chapter 24
Chapter twenty-four
Adrian
“How many books are you taking with you?” I ask Sam. Her gorgeous face is framed by the edges of my phone screen, which is propped up on the nightstand beside me. My suitcase is open on the bed, clothes and shoes spread out waiting to be organized.
“I am taking one book,” Sam replies. “Danae, on the other hand, has five or six packed, at minimum. Five or six physical books, not to mention her Kindle. She said she needed to be prepared for wherever her mood would take her. We’re only at the Airbnb for three days and two nights, so I’m not sure exactly how many reading mood swings she’s able to have in that amount of time. ”
“A lot, apparently. Almost as many hat mood swings as I’m able to have,” I joke as I hold up the stack of hats I’m taking with me to the All-Star weekend. I’m rewarded with the sound of Sam’s laugh filling my bedroom. It makes me smile, although I’d rather she was physically present here with me.
We’ve found a sustainable rhythm of time spent together over the past four weeks as an official couple.
My schedule of almost daily baseball games—half of them out of town—combined with Sam’s growing client list has created natural limits to our time together.
Outside of three official dates and seeing each other when Sam attends home games, we’ve had to settle for daily text messages and a couple of video calls.
So I think I’ve done an okay job of listening to Griffin’s advice to not take things too fast.
I haven’t even kissed Sam yet, although I picture what it would be like every time we’re together. And every night when I’m falling asleep. And every minute that I’m not playing baseball or working out with the team.
I’m doing my best to keep building that solid emotional connection between us before I kiss her—wooing her like I’d promised—but I’m getting desperate to finally press that first kiss to her lips.
I’m pretty sure she might be getting desperate, too, if the number of times I catch her gaze on my lips is an accurate indicator.
Because it’s almost as many times as my eyes linger on hers.
Unfortunately for my kissing desperation, I’m leaving town. With Griffin, not Sam.
But as much as I’d like to spend my time kissing Sam, I’m looking forward to this final hurrah with Griff.
Drew will also be with us since he’s hitting in the Home Run Derby, so I’ll almost be able to pretend this is just like old times when the three of us were playing together.
When Griff might have been the one hitting in the derby instead of watching from the stands.
I ask Sam, “Does Danae feel okay about leaving town before the wedding? Everything is planned out and organized?”
Sam acts offended. “I can’t believe you would doubt my coordinating skills. Of course everything is planned out and organized.”
“I never doubt your skills, cielo,” I reply with a wink.
She smiles but continues, “Danae doesn’t have a single thing to worry about. Even though we both know she’ll be an anxious basket case anyway. That’s why she has to be forced away to enjoy some downtime. Are you excited for a few days with Griff?”
“I am,” I say as I place carefully folded shirts into one side of the suitcase.
“Although I wish you were the one meeting me at the crack of dawn to fly out tomorrow morning instead of your boring brother.” I make eye contact with her through the phone and say, “Kidding. Well, not completely kidding. I do wish you’d be there.
But getting time with Griff and Drew is gonna be great.
And I’m glad you’re distracting Danae from her anxiety. ”
“Attempting,” Sam clarifies. “Not sure how successful I’ll be.”
“If you’re half as successful at distracting Danae as you are at styling hair, you’ll be okay,” I say. “Everything still going well at the salon?”
A conflicted look passes over Sam’s face, so I set down the pair of pants I was folding and pick up the phone to focus on our conversation. “What’s up?”
“It’s nothing,” Sam deflects. “Everything’s really good.”
“Mentirosa,” I say. Sam’s eyes narrow, and I translate, “Liar.”
She shakes her head in amusement and looks away, but she can’t hide the pinch of her cheek between her teeth. “Tell me,” I gently prod.
She shifts positions, switching from sitting cross-legged on her bed to leaning back against the pillows. Mentally, I reach an arm through the screen, placing it around her shoulders and tucking her against my side.
“Things have been a little tense in our salon space,” Sam says uncertainly. “Veronica has never liked me—”
“I’m not sure I believe that,” I cut in. “Who couldn’t like you?”
“It’s true!” Sam emphasizes. “If you were there with us, you’d see it.
She’s . . . cold to me. She doesn’t even try to hide the fact that I annoy her.
Which feels odd since we’re grown adults and not high schoolers.
Plus, Lynsey says Veronica’s not that way with her.
But also, things have gotten a little weird with Lynsey since my calendar has booked up faster than hers.
I don’t know. It all feels off, and I hate it because it makes me feel the same as—”
She cuts herself off this time, and I wait for her to finish the thought.
When she tries to change the conversation back to my trip, I stop her.
“Sam, it makes you feel the same as what?” She shakes her head again, but not in amusement this time.
I’m suddenly looking at a view of the ceiling fan in her room.
“Sam?” I ask, watching the circular motion of the fan blades. When her face comes back into view a few seconds later, the redness around her eyes would indicate tears. But her eyes are dry, and her expression is detached.
“I get worried that Veronica—and maybe even Lynsey—thinks that I’m getting all of these clients because of my connection to you. And maybe that’s true. Maybe I am. And that feels a little like Ryan dating me because of my connection to Griffin,” Sam states almost robotically.
“I . . .” Words fail me. In both English and Spanish. I have no idea how to respond.
My mind flashes back to when Sam called me after her breakup with Ryan.
The night floods my thoughts, my senses.
I can feel the rain pounding against me as I ran to where she was shivering under the overhang.
I can feel her clammy forehead and slick hair as I brushed the long tendrils away from her eyes.
I can feel the insubstantial weight—not nearly enough weight—of her in my arms as I carried her to the car.
I can feel her pain.
And I don’t know how to respond. I never know how to respond to pain.
“It’s fine,” Sam dismisses. “I’ll figure out what I can do to smooth things over with Lynsey and how I can be less annoying to Veronica. It’s gonna be okay. I’m making it a bigger deal than it is anyway.”
“Sam, I . . .” I begin, but nothing follows. “I’m . . .”
“Let’s not talk about it anymore. Let’s talk about Drew’s chances of winning the Home Run Derby,” Sam says, her voice overly enthusiastic.
“Sam—”
“What’s your bet, Adrian?” Sam repeats. Her tone leaves no room for argument, but I still wonder if I should argue anyway. In my hesitation, she continues, “I love Drew to death, but I don’t think he has a chance of beating the heavy hitter from Washington.”
I’m caught between the words Sam is saying and the words she’s not saying. And I’m completely unsure whether I should follow her lead away from the conversation or lead her back to finish it.
“You know I have to back up my teammate,” I say.
“Of course, you want him to win, even if it isn’t likely,” Sam teases.
I force a smile as I agree with her. “I always want to win.”
But even as conversation moves on, even as I continue packing and Sam chatters away about the air-conditioned wedding tent, I feel pretty confident that I just lost.
I think I just failed Sam.
As Griffin and I walk through the hotel lobby, I nod my head toward the bar. “Want to get one of your cranberry-lime things and hang for a little bit?”
“Don’t you need to get your beauty sleep before the media stuff tomorrow?
” Griffin asks. We’ve had a full day of travel and watching the All-Star Sunday festivities together.
I’m glad Sam demanded I bring Griff with me this week because I can see how much fun he’s had connecting with old friends from other teams and laughing with Drew and me.
I’d be having just as much fun if last night’s conversation with Sam wasn’t looming in my thoughts.
I mean, I’ve still had plenty of fun. It’s my core wiring. But my thoughts have been melancholy in the moments of downtime that I haven’t been distracted by the activities and friends.
“I could stay up another hour,” I say. “Unless it’s past old man West’s bedtime.”
Somehow Griffin sees through my joking and looks at me with those perceptive eyes of his. I try not to blanch under the scrutiny.
“Sure,” he says, and we find a small secluded table in the bar seating area. After ordering two of his favorite drinks for us, he shakes his head. “We’ll see how far off from terrible they manage to get.”
“Jeff has you completely spoiled,” I tease. “Why don’t you have him write down the exact proportions for you to share with whatever bartender you’re forcing to make your pink drink?”
Griffin claps a hand over his heart. “And ask Jeff to give up the rights to his intellectual property? I would never.”
“He taught Noah.”
“That was his choice.” Griffin’s eyes narrow. “Now, what’s eating at you?”
Before I can chicken out, I confess, “I think I may have messed up with Sam last night.”
Griffin’s eyes take on a hint of red rage, so I rush to clarify, “Nothing crazy, okay? I mean we were talking about something, and she got a little sad, and I don’t think I reacted the right way.
You’ve got me so paranoid about the strength of our emotional connection that I froze up and got in my head and didn’t really respond. ”
Griffin’s eyes cool to their normal gray-blue, and we pause while the bartender drops off our drinks.
He leans in and says, “I’m sorry that I made you paranoid.
Maybe I overstepped and never should have said anything at all.
I probably shouldn’t have. It’s hard to turn off the protective-older-brother mode when it comes to Sam. After everything we’ve been through.”
He runs both hands through his hair before giving me a pained expression.
“Honestly, I was probably reacting out of my own secondary trauma from walking through everything with Sam. Of watching her hit those really low points. Worrying what she might do to herself. But I shouldn’t have been so intense about it with you.
I’m sorry that stepping in actually made things worse. ”
“It’s okay, man,” I respond, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “I know it’s because you love her. And I did need the caution to think things through before acting. But this time, I think I maybe thought things through too much.”
Griffin tips his glass toward me and says, “Explain what you feel like would be okay to share.”
I tell him the barest amount of information about Sam’s struggle at the salon triggering the feeling she had of being used by Ryan for her connections. Rage simmers in Griffin’s eyes again, but I know it’s not directed at me.
“And you said what?” he asks.
Grimacing, I confess, “I didn’t really say anything.”
“Orteeez,” Griffin groans, drawing out my last name.
“I already told you I know I messed up!” I hiss. “I stammered a little bit trying to figure out what to say, and then she changed the subject.”
Griffin sighs, and I feel even worse. “She could probably tell that you were uncomfortable and lightened the mood.”
Now I groan and drop my head to my hands. “I didn’t mean to freeze up! I never know what to say to people when they’re crying or upset.”
“Work on it,” Griffin says.
“Work on it how?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I can’t do all your work for you, man. If you are serious about Sam, then figure it out,” he says.
Rubbing a hand over my goatee, I think over his challenge. I know he’s right.
But if I’m honest, I don’t want to get better at responding to people when they’re sad. I don’t want to have to think about the emotions I’m so good at distracting myself from.
Swirling the liquid in my glass, I ask, “Should I apologize? Call her tonight and bring it back up? See if she wants to talk more? I probably should, right?”
I start to pull out my phone, but Griffin stops me. “She’s on the reading retreat with Danae and her friends right now. It would probably make Sam feel way too awkward to have a conversation like that when she’s stuck in the house with people she doesn’t know well.”
“Ah, good point,” I agree. “Okay. I’ll wait and talk to her about it later. Or, at least, I’ll know to respond better next time if something comes up again.”
Griffin gives me a hard look. “Something is going to come up again. You have to know that. Even if Sam didn’t have the background that she does, uncomfortable moments and hard conversations are part of a relationship. You’re going to have to face them.”
Sighing, I say, “Okay, okay. I’m learning.”
Griffin raises his drink. “To learning.”
I clink my glass against his.