“Maybe you shouldn’t have given her hope. She obviously thought there was room for more in your relationship.”
“What relationship? We didn’t have a relationship.” I shake my head as I drive to the restaurant.
“Some people would say we didn’t have a relationship either,” she says. “I mean, two whole months? Does that even count?”
“Stop.” I glance at her as I turn onto the street and park the car in front of the valet. “Do not compare what we had to me and Silvie.”
We get out of the car and I hand over my keys to the valet, who recognizes me and asks for a selfie. Even though I’m wound up from my conversation, I oblige and smile for the camera, as I always do.
“I guess you better get used to that,” Misty says when I reach her.
I don’t respond. Instead, I open the door to the restaurant, greet the hostess, and let her know we have a reservation. Thankfully, even though I know she also wants to say something from the way her eyes light up, she doesn’t and just seats us immediately. Maybe I have a don’t-fuck-with-me look on my face now. I hope I do. I want to sit down and settle this as quickly as possible. We sit, grab our menus, and look through them. I set mine down.
“What we had was real,” I say, staring at Misty’s menu, since she’s covering her entire body with it.
“Sure, but some people would say it isn’t. You were messing around with that girl for over a year.” She lowers the menu and leans forward, lowering her voice. “You were fucking her for over a year. That’s a long time. A lot longer than you were fucking me.”
I flinch. “Misty.”
“It’s true. I fucked guys longer than we were together as well.” Her eyes narrow. “How does that make you feel?”
“Not good.” I shut my eyes, wishing she’d take all of that back, but I know she won’t. I open my eyes and swallow. “I hate that.”
“Yeah, well, welcome to my world. And still you think we can make this work. I just . . . ” She shakes her head, leaning back in her chair and going back to the menu. “What the fuck is the point anyway?”
“The point is to be together.”
“Together.” She laughs. “What will happen when you get drafted?”
“We’ll figure it out.”
“We’ll figure it out.” She shakes her head. “The draft is soon.”
“I know.”
“What round will you go, do you know?”
“First.”
“You seem pretty sure about that.” She raises an eyebrow.
“I’m absolutely sure. If that wasn’t the case, I wouldn’t have gone to college at all.”
“Explain something to me.” She lowers the menu again and leans forward. I do the same, wishing this table was smaller so that I could be all up in her space. “Why would you want to get into a relationship now, when you’re about to become rich and famous and women are going to be throwing themselves all over you? It sounds like a recipe for disaster.”
“It’s not.”
“Explain.” She taps her fingers on the table, waiting. The server interrupts us and we put in our orders quickly. When we finish, Misty is still staring at me.
“Women already throw themselves all over me. They have for . . . the majority of my life. This isn’t new territory to me. I can have whoever I want, but the only person I actually want is sitting across from me right now.”
“Why? When did you figure out that I’m the one you want.”
“I always knew.”
“Yet you were busy fucking women like Silvie and leading them on.”
“Jesus.” I rub my hands over my face.
“Why not have a relationship with someone? It doesn’t make any sense. All these years and you never had a girlfriend.”
“I told you, baseball was my number one priority.”
“It still is, clearly, so what changed?”
“You’re not making this easy, Misty.”
“Am I supposed to? Do you expect me to flail all over you because you’re hot and are about to get a fat paycheck?”
“No.”
“Is that why you want me? Because I don’t need you?”
“That’s one of the reasons.”
“Give me another reason.”
“You’re smart. You’re beautiful. You’re funny. You’re an asshole.”
“Oh, so we’re openly admitting we like assholes now?” She tries to fight a smile, but fails.
“You did call me an asshole earlier.”
“I hated you for such a long time,” she says, her words nearly a whisper. “And I realize that was on me. I couldn’t make you love me.”
“I did though.” I put my hand over hers. “I did love you.”
“You didn’t say that.”
“What was I supposed to say? I wanted you to leave and not look back. I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“But you did and you made me feel like my feelings were invalid.”
“I’m so sorry.” I squeeze her hand.
“Stop apologizing.” She takes her hand from underneath mine.