39. Garrett
GARRETT
It’s the perfect night for a baseball game, seeing as the week following the fundraiser pulled Emerson and me in two different directions. Lachlan, Maverick, and I grieved the finality of Darren’s departure from the band. I didn’t receive any more messages from him, but I blocked him all the same.
I needed a clean break both for my heart and my head. As a result, Mav, Lach, and I played some of our heavier stuff, the tension and angst cathartic as we let it all out.
Emerson spent long days at the office, even opting to stay at her apartment one night to catch up. I didn’t join her and ended up tossing and turning all night. Theo told me I looked like shit the next day, and I couldn’t disagree.
Somehow, in less than six months, I’ve become dependent on Emerson in a way I’ve never come close to with another person. It’s terrifying, especially now as she stands across the private box, typing away on her phone.
“You all right?” Roan asks as he sidles up next to me.
“Yeah, I’m glad we were all able to be here.” I motion toward Tom, Kat, Samson and his girls, Jace, and Ozzy, with Grimm standing guard outside the door.
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
“Do we have to do this here?” I ask, taking a sip of my beer and looking out at the field. I’ve been to hundreds of games between college and the major leagues and it never gets old, seeing my friend doing what he loves.
We tease Colt for being the all-American boy, but I’m so damn proud of him—proud that despite the direction life has taken each of us, we’re still the same three guys from that college dorm.
“This is the first time I’ve actually seen you in weeks,” Roan says, following my gaze to the field. “And your contract is up soon and I need to know what we’re doing.”
“We have time—”
“We don’t,” he says gently. “If you go through with the divorce, there will be questions, and statements will have to be released asking for privacy and that’s all before we even get to court.”
Dread settles in my stomach, the thought of actually divorcing Emerson making me sick. There’s no way she wants that, does she?
“I’ll talk to her,” I murmur, watching as she slips her phone into the pocket of her wide-leg trousers. We’re at a baseball game and she looks effortlessly elegant, her hair swept up in a messy but intentional bun at the nape of her neck.
“Okay, just…” Roan’s voice trails off as Emerson joins us, her hand sliding into my free one as she leans into me.
“Hey, sorry, I’m trying to get things under control with the acquisition, but I keep hitting all this red tape,” she says, looking at me before gazing out the window at the field. It’s the top of the third already, and the Illinois Blues have a three to one lead.
“Is it something major?”
“I hope not,” she says distractedly. “Has Colt been up to bat?”
“Once,” Roan offers and she nods.
“I’m going to go say hi to Nico’s girls. I’ll be right back.”
With a quick kiss to my lips, Emerson pulls her hand from mine and I miss her immediately.
And not for the first time, I think I might be well and truly fucked for falling in love with Emerson Andrews.
EMERSON
My mind is whirling at a thousand miles an hour as I stand in front of the windows overlooking the stadium. It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a game and even longer since I came to one for something other than business.
But isn’t my relationship with Garrett business?
There’s only a couple more weeks before we need to file the divorce papers, the weight of that heavy on my heart. It’s the right thing to do because no matter how much I’ve enjoyed being with Garrett, I’m not willing to give up everything I’ve worked for because things are great right now.
It’s not real.
And it never was.
Plus, there’s too much at stake with the acquisition. Des’s phone call on my way over here had me mentally rearranging my trip in hopes that I can head off any additional issues before they start.
But that will mean less time with Garrett.
Maybe that’s better.
I want to ignore the little whisper in the back of my mind but I can’t. Now that the media is gushing over our marriage, will they believe us when we say we’re better off as friends?
My phone vibrates in my pocket, Des’s name appearing on the screen as I swipe open the message.
DES: I made the arrangements for next week and emailed all the confirmations to you
EMERSON: Thank you
One week.
I can make the most of one week.
And then it’ll be a formality—separating our lives and going back to the way they were before our drunken night in Vegas.
That feels like a lifetime ago.
“Colt’s up!” Kat shouts as we all crowd around the glass to watch him bat. Embracing the distraction, I watch as Colt assumes his stance and waits for the pitch.
He takes the first one as a strike and the next two outside. Kat won’t stop bouncing as she watches her brother while Nico’s girls press their faces to the glass, drawing little designs in the condensation from their breath.
I’ve never been good with the different kinds of pitches, but the next one appears to be a fastball toward home plate.
It looks like it’s headed right for the catcher’s mitt but then Colt swings, his bat connecting with the ball, sending it flying deep into centerfield.
Whoops and cheers go around as Colt rounds first and slides into second, the crowd going wild as he stands up and adjusts his gloves.
The next batter hits a single and Colt hustles his way to third with only one out.
“Did you see that?” Roan says behind me.
“Yeah,” Garrett replies, making me turn to look back at the two of them both frowning out at the field.
“See what?” I ask.
“He shook out his leg.” Roan nods toward Colt’s general direction.
“So?”
He doesn’t get a chance to answer as we all watch the runner on first try to steal second, the catcher throwing the ball to the second baseman as soon as it hits his glove.
And Colt runs for home.
Like he knows the ball is coming back toward the catcher, Colt dives for home, sliding across the plate to a cacophony of cheers both in the stadium and in our private suite.
But then he doesn’t get up right away.
Instead, he rolls onto his back as someone from the dugout runs onto the field. It feels like a lifetime before Colt is pulled to his feet, his arm draped over what looks like the trainer’s shoulder as he limps off the field.
“What happens now?” I ask, my gaze bouncing between Roan, Garrett, and Kat.
“Now we wait.”