Page 57 of I Wish He Would

“Great. Let’s go before we’re really late.” She releases my hand and heads toward the welcome party.

I follow after her like a dutiful friend. If being her shadow today is what will help her most, I’ll do it. I’ll be whatever she needs as long as it means I get to be in her orbit.

“You made it!” Alyssa’s mother pulls her in for a hug. When she spots me over her daughter’s shoulder, her smile beams even brighter, and the wrinkles around her eyes deepen, evidence of a life well lived and loved. “You didn’t tell me you were bringing Austin.”

“It was a last-minute thing,” Alyssa says.

Mrs. Cartwright pulls back and opens her arms to me. “Well, it’s great to see you.”

I step into her embrace. Receiving this motherly affection from her makes a lump form in my throat. Being so far from my family during the season is harder on me than I ever let on, but Alyssa’s parents have included me in holidays and family gatherings for the past three years. They’ve always made me feel like I belong, and it’s meant more to me than I can express.

“It’s been too long, Mrs. Cartwright.” I squeeze her small frame. She shoots me a scolding look. “Jen,” I amend. “Sorry, I’m still getting used to that.” Growing up, my parents always instilled the importance of calling other adults by an honorific. It’s a hard habit to break, even now that I’m an adult. But I still have to use honorifics every day. I can’t even imagine if I called Coach by his first name…let’s just say it wouldn’t go over well.

Jen turns and calls for her husband before smoothing her shoulder-length blonde hair. “Scott.”

Alyssa’s father smiles when he sees us. “Hey, sweetheart.” He presses a kiss to Alyssa’s cheek, then shakes my hand. “Austin.”

“Mr.”—I catch myself this time—“Scott.”

“Jen didn’t tell me you would be here.”

Standing next to each other, Jen looks young with her fashionable hairstyle—courtesy of Alyssa—while Scott’s hairline is receding, and his light brown hair is peppered with grays that shine in the sunlight. It feels like I’m looking at Alyssa and myself in thirty years’ time. The thought makes me smile even wider.

Jen wraps her arms around Scott’s waist. “That’s because I didn’t know, dear.”

Scott claps my shoulder. “You played one heck of a game yesterday, son.”

“Thanks, it was nice to finally beat the Sharks.”

He nods. “That no-hitter was brutal, but y’all came out full force, and it showed.”

My brows furrow. “Wait, I thought you flew in yesterday?”

“I streamed it in our room.” Scott grins. “Let me tell you, watching baseball with the balcony door open and the Caribbean as a backdrop is how it should be done.”

“That sounds dreamy,” Alyssa says.

“The real dream is getting to spend the next few days here.” I look around at the large pools and the ocean beyond.

I love baseball. It’s not just my career; it’s my life. But I’m thankful for this short mid-season break, even if it’s only for a few days. The nonstop games and traveling have started to take a toll the older I get. It makes me feel bad for Cooper. I’m only twenty-eight, and I’m feeling it, but he’s thirty-three, so he must live on ice baths and as much sleep as he can get.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Jen agrees.

Our conversation is cut off when a man and woman approach. I’d bet my entire sign-on bonus that they’re Bradley’s parents. They just have that snooty aura about them, from their clothes to the way they walk.

Alyssa wraps her slender fingers around my arm. I’m not sure if it’s to pretend we’re dating or if she needs to lean into my strength.

“When Alyssa mentioned she was bringing Austin Bradford to the wedding, I just had to see it with my own eyes to believe it,” Mrs. Vanderbilt tuts.

“I have some ideas on how you can improve your batting average. Maybe we can discuss it over a game of golf one of these mornings?” Mr. Vanderbilt puffs his chest, attempting to stand taller, but I still tower over him.

I sling my arm over Alyssa’s shoulder, wanting to make the real reason I’m here apparent. “Our schedule is pretty booked up with the wedding festivities, but I appreciate the thought.”

Mr. Vanderbilt’s cocky demeanor falters for only a second before his slimy grin is back in place. “Once we’re back in Louisville then.”

“What are your”—Mrs. Vanderbilt tilts her head, in search of the right word—“relations with Alyssa?” She stares down her nose at Alyssa like she already knows the answer but can’t quite believe it.

I want to tell her right where she can go shove her snooty nose, but that doesn’t seem like it would bode well for Alyssa, so I clench my fist at my side and take a deep breath before responding. “I’m her date.”