“Thanks for doing this. He’ll talk about it for a month.”
“Anything for the little guy. I mean, he’s my back-up plan. If I don’t figure out a way to take care of me, he’s giving me all-access to the dugout. I’m looking at tonight as an insurance policy.”
“Oh my God,” I laugh, watching everyone take their seats around us.
“So, speaking of which . . .”
“Speaking of what? God?”
“Barrett.”
“Shh,” I say, rolling my eyes. “For real, Lo. Realize we’re in a packed stadium. People eavesdrop.”
“And no one would know what I’m talking about if you didn’t react so obviously.”
I pop another piece of candy and glare at her. She just gives me her blank stare, the one she uses when she waits for me to stop being shocked at her behavior and continue the conversation.
“I’m not talking about . . . that . . . here,” I warn.
“You didn’t bother to spring that little gem of information, the one where you had lunch with—”
“Lola!”
“With a friend,” she modifies, “until I picked you up. What did you expect? You do know me, right?”
I feel a little elbow digging into my side and turn to see my sweet boy looking at me. His brown eyes, like his father’s, peer up at me with a level of excitement that makes me excited too.
He points to the field where the players have taken their positions unbeknownst to me. They’re tossing balls back and forth, some of them jogging to the stands to sign jerseys and hats for fans.
“Can I go get an autograph?” Hux asks. He bounces in his seat, one hand stuck in his baseball glove. “Please, Mom.”
“I don’t see anyone over here,” I say, scanning the fence. “If someone comes over, we’ll go see if we can get their attention, okay?”
“Yes!” he yells, fist pumping, making Lola and I laugh.
The speakers overhead rumble and the announcer’s voice blazes through the stadium. “Welcome, baseball fans young and old, to tonight’s charity game to benefit Casey’s Children’s Hospital!”
The crowd goes wild as some of their favorite players wave from the field and dugouts. They take their places as the announcer continues. “We’d like to give an especially warm welcome to Savannah’s own center fielder for the major league Tennessee Arrows, Lincoln Landry!”
The crowd jumps to their feet as I sink back into my chair. Hux is waving his mitt in the air as I watch Lincoln appear from the dugout beneath us and wave to the crowd.
I lean forward, trying to get a good eyeful of him. He’s taller, thinner, but more muscled than Barrett. That’s all I can really tell from the back.
Lola watches my reaction. “Do you think Barrett’s here?”
I let my shoulders rise and fall.
“Your hometown loves you, Lincoln! Thank you so much for coming home to support our hospital tonight!” the announcer booms.
Lincoln turns to face the booth, situated above our seats, and I realize how beautiful he is. A younger version of Barrett, Lincoln has a softer jaw line and more unruly hair. When he smiles and flashes the crowd a thumbs-up, Lola nearly dies.
“I take it back. That’s the one I want,” she breathes, her jaw hanging open. “My God. Those men have genetics that need reproduced and I volunteer for the job.”
I ignore her, a peculiar feeling bubbling in my stomach. My attention is drawn like a magnet to the dugout. I’m not sure why, but I wait with bated breath.
And then I see the reason.
“Ladies and gentleman, let’s now give a round of applause for Mayor Landry, who’ll be tossing out the first pitch!”