Page 35 of I Wish He Would

“We must be going then.” Mrs. Vanderbilt pats his arm before turning back to me. “But we’ll see you at the wedding. I heard you’re bringing a plus-one?”

My gaze moves back to Bianca and Bradley, who are looking at me with incredulous expressions, like they don’t truly believe someone would agree to be my date.

I nod. “That’s right.”

Bianca stares at the box suite behind me, then back at me. I see the light bulb go off in her eyes. “Wait, is Austin Bradford your plus-one?”

I press my lips into a thin line. Realistically, I don’t think I could ask someone I’ve been talking to for two weeks to come to a family wedding, so that takes Rhett out of the equation. Which means I will be bringing Austin, though I still need to tell him. And I’d been planning on leaving that little tidbit of information as a surprise just so I could see the shocked looks on their faces when I showed up with the man they saw me kiss three years ago, who also happens to be the starting shortstop for their favorite baseball team. But it looks like the cat’s—or, should I say, Mustang’s—out of the bag.

“Yep, he sure is.” I smile, attempting to look confident. I move past them before they can ask any questions about how long we’ve been together or why he hasn’t come to family functions. “I gotta run, but we’ll see y’all there.” I make sure to lean into my Southern accent more than usual since I know they hate it.

I walk as fast as my long legs will let me, thankful I paired my outfit with sneakers today rather than sandals. These are much more useful for a quick getaway. When I reach the entrance to the players’ loved ones’ area, I smile at Henry. “Isn’t it a beautiful night, Henry?”

I’m not exactly sure what his title is. He’s kind of a bodyguard, bouncer, and security all wrapped up in one very large, burly bow. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that he was a professional linebacker before this.

I lovingly call him Hank the Tank in my mind, though I’m not sure he’d appreciate me saying it out loud. I’ve made it my sole goal to get a smile out of him, but today he’s as stoic as ever.

“Your card, Ms. Cartwright?”

He still asks for it every time, even though he knows my name. I’m pretty sure he knows the names of everyone who goes through the doors behind him, but he’s a stickler for the rules.

I pull my VIP key card that Austin gives me every season out of my purse, and Hank the Tank scans it before opening the door for me.

“See you next game.” I shoot him my brightest smile, but the door closes behind me without so much as another word of acknowledgment from him. I’ll break him one of these days.

I wave to the few wives of players that I know as I walk through the tunnel. Whenever Austin’s team loses, he does press, showers, then heads straight to his car in the players’ parking lot. But on days where they’re coming off a win, he’s all about celebrating.

I lean against the wall in my usual spot and wait for him to finish his press and shower. I’ve never felt out of place here before. Since Austin’s family can’t travel to his games, I’m his person. The one who supports him through the wins and losses, but now that I’m talking to Rhett, I can’t help but wonder if I’ll always be able to show up for Austin in this way.

“Austin, I couldn’t help but notice you look up to the crowd and pump your fist into the air after your game-winning RBI. Was there anyone in particular you were sharing that moment with?”

My hands are shaking beneath the table before the words are out of the reporter’s mouth.

I shouldn’t have done that.

It was a knee-jerk reaction. A moment I wanted to celebrate with my best friend. With the girl I haven’t been able to get out of my head all game. But if I had been thinking, I would’ve realized there would be a bunch of cameras focused on me. That the press would do their job and ask questions. Questions I can’t answer. At least, not truthfully.

I lean closer to the mic. “I was celebrating an exciting win with the fans.”

“So, there’s no special lady in attendance?”

I run my palms along my baseball pants, ready for the next question. I’d rather answer about being the reason for a lost game than this. “Every fan who came out to support us tonight was special—a part of this win. The energy in the stadium was tangible. The Fireflies are a tough team, but Fletch held the game close and gave us the opportunity to squeak out a win in the final inning.” I know everyone probably sees right through me. I’m avoiding the question like I’m caught between two bases in a pickle and dodging every attempted tag.

Thankfully, the reporter takes my change in topic in stride. “Fletch threw well tonight, but you were on fire. Six hits in seven at bats for two RBIs and a run. What was the secret to your success tonight?”

Or we’re right back to square one. She’s obviously trying to get me to crack, to get a big story. But I’m not one to share any information about my personal life. I need to figure out what these big feelings I’m having for Alyssa are before I consider talking to her about them, let alone before the whole world discovers. Besides, she’s interested in Rhett, and I’m not the kind of man to step in on another guy’s relationship.

“I was hitting well in practice this afternoon, too. Guess it was just my lucky day.”

The reporter finally moves on to questioning the rest of my teammates when she realizes I’m not going to give her a hit story. I feel like I can breathe again. That was close. Too close. I need to get my feelings in check. No more slipups.

I’m able to mostly sit back for the rest of our press time, then head for the locker room with the rest of my team.

“You need a long shower, Bradford.” Hayden pinches his nose and waves his other hand back and forth like he smelled something disgusting. “You were straight up nasty today.” He says the word nasty with a weird tone.

“Yeah, he was.” Dawson smacks my butt.

Cooper comes up beside me, carrying his catcher’s gear. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”