Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Penelope
Hazel spots Monroe before we reach our seats in Webber Stadium. Monroe climbs out of her chair, holding up her latest stuffed animal to show her friend. Hazel holds up her matching Boston Terrier.
I usher Hazel down to our seats. Usually, she and Monroe sit together the entire time. Since we got here late, we probably missed Decker and Easton coming to the fence line to talk to all the kids, which I had to hear about from my daughter the entire ride.
I finally sit down next to Leighton and Callie. Lake is talking with Callie’s parents.
“Can I raid your closet once I lose these last ten pounds of baby weight?” Callie asks, dipping her chip into the nacho sauce.
“I agree, where do you shop? I need to go there.” Leighton gives me the once-over and smiles.
“That cute little skirt…” Callie glares at me. “I’m never going to get there again.”
“Yes, you are.” Leighton pats her knee.
“She’s never had a baby.” Callie looks at me. “Tell me the truth, Penelope.”
“You’ve probably got about a year,” I answer truthfully. “But who cares? You look amazing.”
“I’ll be pregnant again by then if Foster has his way.”
Leighton’s head whips around, and I inch out to meet her gaze.
“What did you say, Callie?” her mom asks from down the row. Ellis is strapped to her chest with her little headphones on.
“Nothing, Mom.”
“I think she said more babies, right?” Mrs. Carlisle’s eyes glisten with excitement.
“I don’t listen to them anymore,” Lake says in a typical annoyed teenage girl voice. “I don’t know why I have to come to every game. I love Hayes, but come on, I have a life too.”
I smile to myself, remembering those days, although I never minded coming to my dad’s games. Then again, the guys were usually close in age to me, so it had its upside.
We’re already up one run, which is good. Hazel and Monroe play with their Boston terriers as if they’re fighting while Lincoln chats with Callie’s dad.
The guys take the field, and on the way, the Jumbotron zeros in on Decker jogging to third base.
The announcer’s voice rings throughout the stadium.
“Ladies and gentlemen, can I please have your attention on the Jumbotron? The Colts organization would like to formally apologize to anyone who just spilled their beer. Yes, that’s our third baseman, Decker Davis, the new face of Noir Cologne, and frankly, we’re not sure the stadium is big enough for this billboard.
Noir Cologne. Available everywhere. Decker Davis, unfortunately, is not. ”
“Oh my,” Mrs. Carlisle says.
“Relax, Jennifer, he’s the same age as your son,” Mr. Carlisle says.
“Seriously? That’s our Decker?” Callie leans forward and squints.
“How do they make him look so sexy in jeans and a white tank?” Leighton pretends to fan herself.
“It’s the bare feet,” a woman in the row behind us says. “There’s something sexy about bare feet.”
“Not all bare feet,” Mrs. Carlisle says. “Wait forty years, and you won’t be saying that.”
“Are you suggesting my feet aren’t sexy?” Mr. Carlisle asks.
“This is so embarrassing,” Lake says, covering her face and lowering in her seat.
“Never, you have beautiful feet,” Mrs. Carlisle says. “They’re just more distinguished.”
Mr. Carlisle leans over and looks at Lake. “Her nice way of saying she doesn’t like my feet.”
“Close your mouth,” Leighton whispers in my ear, and I straighten.
“It’s the way his hand is on his lip, the other one pressed down at his side so his muscles are all flexing,” the woman behind us keeps going.
“And his hair. That shaggy kind of unkempt look,” her friend chimes in.
“I can think of another word besides unkempt,” the woman says.
Meanwhile all I can think about is how I want to climb off these bleachers, scale the fence, run over to him on third base, and offer myself up to him.
“You getting hot over here?” Callie says softly.
“I’m fine.” I set down my water. “It’s a good billboard. He looks good.”
“Good?” Callie arches an eyebrow.
“Yeah… good.”
They both look at me.
“I hate you both.” I roll my eyes at them playfully and cross my arms.
Below us, Decker fields a sharp grounder and throws to first, and the crowd cheers.
I watch him jog back to his position with the same unhurried movement he has when he’s in his element.
The ad flashes on the screen once more. Apparently, I have zero self-control because I can’t take my eyes off it.
“Every day we’re just a little closer,” Callie says. “Oh, complete transparency, I… um… have a bet with Foster.”
“What?” I frown.
“I can’t tell you the stipulations because that would be cheating, but I think I might win. And I can’t wait to rub it in Foster’s face.” She continues eating her chips.
I decide not to ask questions I probably don’t want the answers to.
In the top of the eighth, the lights go out, and Callie gets on her feet, cheering. “Ellis, baby, Daddy’s up.”
The Jumbotron flashes ALL ABOARD! in bold, blinding letters as “Crazy Train” by Ozzy Osbourne plays. A train engine bursts from the shadows on the screen, wheels sparking as it barrels down tracks of pure lightning.
“Don’t tell Foster, she’s asleep. Somehow,” Mrs. Carlisle says.
I watch Foster knock his glove with all the infield players, including Decker, and Decker pats him on the back. Look at the progress those two have made. Anything between Decker and me would only derail that.
Foster abandons two Minnesota players on the basepath to end the inning.
Decker is the starting batter in the bottom of the eighth, and we need at least one run to tie the game.
“Can’t Stop” by Red Hot Chili Peppers plays, and Hazel and Monroe jump to their feet.
“Decker!” Hazel turns around. “Decker, Mommy!”
I smile and nod. “I see.”
They both raise their hands, cheering him on. He looks over at the stands and waves to the little girls, which makes the camera for the Jumbotron scan over to us. Everyone claps, and the announcer says something about his cheering squad.
Decker gets into position, feet first, shifting his weight. His stance has changed over the years—probably from working with a lot of instructors. He’s hitting the best he has in years, so I try to figure out what’s different.
This is the problem with my dad being a coach—it’s hard to just sit and enjoy the game without getting all in my head.
The first ball comes in, and it’s so inside, Decker twists his body, but thankfully, the ball doesn’t hit him.
“Bully!” Monroe shouts, and a few people turn around.
“Monroe!” Leighton leans forward and whispers something in her ear.
Decker steps out of the box and takes a practice swing. I have no idea why my throat feels like a boulder is lodged in it since he looks so at ease in the box. He gets himself prepared again, and the pitch comes in. Outside, and he doesn’t swing, but it’s called a strike.
The third pitch looks like it’s going to float over the plate, but at the last minute, it tails, and Decker reacts, twisting. It nails him in the back.
“He’s gonna need someone to tend to that bruise.” Callie’s eyebrows waggle.
“I volunteer as tribute!” a woman says one row down and over.
Get in line, lady.
Decker jogs to first, shaking his head.
Torres grounds out but gets Decker to second.
Decker steals third since the pitcher is off.
Hayes, having one of his best seasons, nails a ball deep left and Decker comes home.
Hayes gets to third on his hit. Ian gets Hayes home but then is out when he tries to steal second. We’re up by one going into the ninth.
Foster comes back out on the mound when the next inning starts. We need to keep them down so this will be over, and we’ll win.
He throws some warm-up pitches to Hayes.
“You got this,” Callie says more to herself than anything.
The first batter comes to the plate, and Foster throws it right at the batter, so it hits his shoulder.
“Oh boy,” Callie says.
The batter says something to Foster, but he only shrugs and gets back into position. If only he could keep his smirk off his lips.
He looks at Decker and points, then nods.
“At least it was for brotherly love. Big step for the Davis brothers.” Callie looks at me, and I nod because it is. Usually, it would be one of them hitting the other. “I’m really proud of him.”
It only reconfirms that I’d be messing it all up if I allowed anything to happen between Foster and me.
Foster still strikes out two, and Hayes throws out the runner at third, ending the inning with a Colts win.
“Let’s go to Peeper’s. There’s no game tomorrow,” Leighton says.
“Sorry, Mom and Dad are taking Ellis for the night, and I plan on showing how impressed I am with my fiance’s emotional progress.” Callie grins.
“In hitting a batter because Decker got hit?” Leighton asks.
“And I have to go to Decker’s to go over the seating arrangements for the VIP Night.” I cringe.
“Oh, I’ll take Hazel then.” Leighton waggles her eyebrows.
“No… I’ll keep my little buffer, thank you.”
Leighton shakes her head. “I think I want in on the bet you have with Foster, Callie. Sooner or later, one of you is going to break.”
I stand, and we file out of the seats to go meet the guys. “You both underestimate my willpower.”
Leighton and Callie laugh. “Hey, Pen, look at the billboard again.”
I glance over and see that it’s displaying Decker’s ad for Noir Cologne again.
“How’s that willpower now?” Callie asks, laughing as she goes to her mom to take Ellis.
“That ad campaign is something else.” Leighton shakes her head. “Although if it was Hayes, I’d probably become a keyboard warrior, making sure everyone knew he was mine.”
We laugh and wait for Hazel and Monroe so we can walk them down to the family room.
At the top of the stairs, I take one last look before trying to push the ad out of my mind. All the while, Leighton is laughing.