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We turn and walk into the kitchen, open the fridge and peer inside. There is a fully cooked meal with “heat me” instructions attached to each dish with a six pack of my favorite beer. We each grab a beer, and untwist the bottle cap as we turn around to the counter where a note sits. “A home cooked meal made for you for the first night in your new home. Welcome and we sincerely hope that you both enjoy Arizona.”
“Welcome to our new home, babe.” I kiss Sawyer’s temple as I tighten my arm around her waist. “Here’s to new beginnings.”
EPILOGUE # 1
SAWYER
MARCH
MY CALENDAR YEAR began two days ago - and this time I do not have to travel. There are no hotels, there are no bus trips or planes - I just have to drive to root on my man and his new team and that’s it. I don’t have to be without Gunnar for an extended period of time, and each night he comes back home to our home, to our bed.
I’ve been working with the Gila Monsters around the clock to try to rebrand the team. I’ve been writing up media plans for each of the new players, including Gunnar and I hope that I’ve become an asset to the team.
I don’t go to Spring Training for work anymore.
I get to go now for fun.
And I like this.
I’M SITTING in the stands as Gunnar is warming up with the team. He offered me a quick wave and a tip of his head as he walked out on the field and began his routine. Life has been nice in Arizona. The winter months, were cold as Gunnar had mentioned but thankfully, we’re getting a touch of the spring beginning to warm up making our time here in Arizona welcoming. We’ll see how it goes when the summer months are upon us and I’m spending most of my days either in the air conditioning or in the pool with a shade covering me.
We decided that the next off-season, we would spend in San Diego and put the place up for a vacation rental during the other times of year, aside from the games that we are playing San Diego.
I’m wearing a Mrs. Reynolds jersey that Gunnar made for me when we loaded up with Gila Monster gear soon after moving here. Even though, we haven’t even discussed any wedding plans, he wanted it known from the start. I keep trying to tell Gunnar that we should just go to Vegas and elope, however he’s dead set on giving me a wedding to remember. I’m not sure exactly what that really means, but we keep saying that we’ll revisit it later. During the baseball season is not the time to discuss when we’re getting married. With the lack of time and the fact that we’re both busy. That’s not to say that when we’re in Vegas for those games that I won’t try to drag him to the Little White Chapel and have an Elvis impersonator marry us.
“Hey! You’re the new guy’s girl? I remember you from that charity luncheon we did last year,” a familiar face says as she sits down beside me.
“Yeah, hello, how are you?” I hope she reintroduces herself.
“Betty. I’m good and you? How do you guys like Arizona so far?”
“We’ve adjusted; it’s nice to not have that time change - that’s for sure.” I laugh.
“Seriously, we’re not farmers around here… there’s no need!” She jokes.
We fall into a comfortable conversation and by the end of the game; I think that I just made a new friend. Since both of our men are liable to become close due their positions, I can only hope.
Later that night, Gunnar is getting back after eating dinner with the team. He walks directly to me in the kitchen upon entering the room, runs his hands through my hair and pulls me to him for a chaste kiss. He pulls away and looks exhausted and is rubbing his right forearm and flexing his arms.
“Does it hurt?” I ask standing in front of the sink rinsing off my dinner plate.
“It doesn’t and that’s just weird,” he replies further continuing to extend his arm back and forth.
“How does it feel when you play?” I ask.
“Like I never injured it. The docs say that’s normal after a period of time, but immediately after getting the cast off, there was no stiffness, no other awkward twinges, nothing.” He shakes his head.
“Maybe the fracture made your arm better?” I tease.
“Maybe I’m a superhero.”
“Does that mean you will start to wear tights?”
“Tights?”
“You know all the good superheroes wear tights.” I hold in my laughter.
“Iron Man wears metal; I would like to think that I’m him.”
