Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
“I married him,” Eve blurted, her heart rate speeding up as the announcer started to call the opening lineup for the Yankees. Wow. Her usual modus operandi was to keep her lips zipped about her business. Was Veda rubbing off on her or was she feeling guilty for keeping something so big from her best friend?
Too late to turn back now.
“We’re married. But only for six months,” Eve rushed to add. “Well. Five and a half now, I think.”
Slowly, Skylar reared back, her jaw dangling in the vicinity of her ankles. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Adrenaline had Eve’s pulse racing. She almost gave some dumb excuse about having been so busy, she didn’t have a chance to call, but Skylar deserved better than that. Way better. “I guess . . .” She swallowed hard and looked her friend in the eye. “You wanted him for so long, it still felt like I was stealing him.”
Skylar blinked rapidly, her gaze dropping to the floor. When she focused on Eve again, there was a fine layer of mist in her eyes. “I think maybe I was stealing him from you all those years. I was the one standing in the way.”
Denial weighed down on Eve’s chest. Not denial of the truth. Denial of seeing her best friend looking anguished, Eve being the cause. “Skylar—”
“Eve.” The pitcher reached out and squeezed Eve’s forearm. “Let’s call it like it is.”
“Okay.” Eve let out a slow breath. “Now that I’ve seen you with Robbie, I’m not worried anymore. I know you’re happy.”
“And now you get to be happy too.” Skylar gave her one more squeeze, for good measure. “Now. Tell. Me. Everything.”
Approximately six minutes later, Skylar hadn’t said a single word. Or blinked once.
And Eve hadn’t even mentioned the parking lot sex.
She had, however, confided that the six-month rule and secrecy had been instituted to protect Madden’s reputation. By keeping it separate from hers.
“Eve,” her best friend said in something of a warning tone.
“Skylar,” Eve responded, suspiciously.
“I know you’re not a fan of unsolicited advice.”
Eve sipped her drink, winking over the brim. “No lies detected.”
“Normally I respect your boundaries, but you’re just going to have to grin and bear it this time.” Skylar took her by the shoulders and shook slightly, sloshing the champagne in Eve’s glass. “Don’t let other people’s opinions affect your decisions. Especially when those opinions are small-minded and ignorant.”
Did she take her friend’s advice seriously? Yes, of course she did.
But Eve had lived under the weight of disapproval for a long time.
She didn’t even know how to begin shedding it.
Or what she would do if she ever managed to leave the condemnation behind.
Was it time to start wondering?
* * *
The top of the ninth inning was when things got hairy.
One, the game was tied 4–4, their opponents were up to bat and had a man on third.
Two, Veda and Elton hadn’t budged from their spots in approximately three hours and their sporadic bursts of laughter could probably be heard down on the field.
And three, Eve was pretty sure Robbie and Skylar were fucking in the bathroom. Skylar had spilled lemonade on her shirt ten minutes ago, Robbie had come to the rescue with club-soda-soaked paper towels, and they hadn’t emerged since.
Eve was definitely fifth wheeling and she didn’t mind that one iota, because she didn’t have to pretend to focus on a conversation, as opposed to the true passion that had developed during the game: staring at Madden.
This wasn’t the first time she’d ever been to one of his games. No, she’d been to dozens of high school games and once or twice, she’d road-tripped with the Pages to watch him play for Brown. She hadn’t had a chance to catch one of his minor-league games, though she’d planned on it. But this—this was cinematic.
A flatscreen showed the game in the suite, so she could hear the announcer calling the game. Had a bird’s-eye view and a close-up of Madden when he took off his mask to argue a call with the umpire in the fifth inning, his black hair shaggy around the sides of his backward hat, eye black swipes high on his cheeks. Every time he stood to throw back the ball to the pitcher, Eve had to breathe through her nose, to say nothing of the full-body sweat she encountered when he threw out a runner stealing second, his mask falling behind him in the dirt, blue eyes snapping with concentration.
God, her husband was hot.
She was very invested in this game too. Perhaps to the untrained observer, this was any other baseball game, but Eve could see something in Madden’s eyes that she hadn’t expected after talking to him about his issues fitting in with the team. She saw optimism. When they’d gotten their third out at the end of the third inning, he’d even traded a smile and a fist bump with Ruiz, the pitcher.