Page 61 of I Wish He Would

“I’ve been praying for this day for three years.” Mom places a hand on her heart, her smile wide.

“I didn’t realize my love life was such a topic of discussion.”

Maddy scoffs. “Are you kidding? I live in a house with three boys, soon to be four.” She rubs her stomach. “I live for your first-date stories. It’s like my own personal reality show.”

“Those dates would stop, though.”

“Watching you fall even more in love with a pro baseball player who already feels like a part of our family will be even better.” She snaps her fingers. “Then I need you to get on the baby-making game pronto and give me some nieces I can spoil.” My eyes go wide as she picks her drink back up with a sigh. “Why do they have to make all the cute baby clothes for girls?”

“Baby-making?” I squeak.

“I think you’re jumping the gun a little, Mads,” Mom says.

“Thank you,” I breathe, thankful for her backup.

“They need to get married first. It’ll be the most beautiful wedding.”

Or not.

“Just imagine the dance floor filled with tall, muscular baseball players.” Maddy closes her eyes and nods like she’s imagining the scene in her head.

Hearing some of the people who love me most talk about me marrying Austin and having little babies that are half me and half him makes everything feel more real. Like hearing my dreams finally spoken aloud makes me realize how badly I want them to come true. And knowing they think it could actually be a possibility sends my heart racing.

But for right now, I still want to play it cool. “No wedding. No babies. I don’t even know if Austin feels the same way.”

Maddy shoots me a look. “No man willingly goes to the wedding of your cousin and ex-boyfriend with you if they’re not at least a little interested.”

“She’s right,” Mom agrees.

I shake my head, trying not to let their optimism take root. There may have been some small signs of flirting recently, but if I allow myself to believe Austin has feelings for me and nothing comes of it, I’m not sure my heart will recover.

“But he doesn’t want to be with anyone. Not right now.” I slide my sunglasses up, resting them on the top of my head so I can look my mom and sister in the eye. “There’s something I haven’t told y’all.”

I spill everything like a toddler holding a cup with no lid. Everything from how I met Austin at the fancy event by pretending to date him in front of Bradley and Bianca to how he kissed me to prove it.

“You kissed?” my sister screeches.

I throw a beach towel at her. “Do you want him to hear?”

“Sorry.” She grimaces. “But if you kissed, then why aren’t you dating?”

“He walked me to my car and asked for my number.” I don’t bother adding that I thought it was going to be the start of my forever. The story I’d tell my grandkids about one day. “And he friend-zoned me. Told me he needed to focus on his career but would love to have someone who knew Louisville show him around.”

My mom frowns. “I can’t believe our sweet Austin would kiss you and then diss you like that.”

“Ugh, he can be serious about his career and date at the same time.” My sister rolls her eyes. “Plenty of pros across all sports are at the top of their game while starting families. The two can coexist.”

“I know, but he also hopes to play for Boston once he’s a free agent in a few years.” I shrug. “I think he’s so focused on the future that he isn’t allowing his mind to stray from that one goal. I’ve done my best to forget about my feelings, but it’s easier said than done.”

“You’ve shoved your feelings down for three years?” My mom’s eyes brim with tears. I nod, and she pulls her mouth to the side, her telltale sign that she’s trying not to cry. “I hate that you’ve been holding onto this alone for so long. You know you can always come to us about anything.”

“I know.” I offer her a sympathetic smile. “Shoving my feelings down and not talking about it was what helped for a while.”

“But it didn’t make you forget that kiss?” Maddy smirks.

“I’m not sure anything could.” Even if all my memories of Austin were erased, I think I’d still feel the ghost of his lips on mine. A far-off, niggling memory that would haunt me for the rest of my life when no other man could measure up to the feelings he stirred up in me.

My mom leans forward in her chair. “Then I know what needs to be done.”