Page 79 of Elevator Pitch

Kip and I have gone a few rounds about Vee. He felt I’d been unfair, bringing her into my superstitious nonsense, and then letting her leave so easily after Arizona. He didn’t understand the scope of my conflict. Letting Vee go had been one of the hardest decisions. I wasn’t good enough for someone like Vee, someone who didn’t want anything from me. Someone who is more of a giver than a taker.

Now, the playing field between us felt a bit leveled. For research. Yeah, I’d answer any fucking question she had, and use all the props for examples until she learned this wasn’t about baseball rituals. We are more.

“Because you’ve got that goofy grin again, like you get whenever she’s texting you or you think of her. And it matters because your head needs to be here.” He taps his head and points toward the ball field we can’t see yet. “Not there.” He aims his pointed finger in the vicinity of my phone.

Instantly, my mood shifts. Kip is a good guy and a great friend, but I don’t need him questioning where my heart and head are at as the head coach. He knows as well as anyone that heart and head can be divided at times. Family comes first. Romantic matters come next. Vee is in that second category for me. But I’m present.

“I’m here,” I tell him. My feet firmly planted in this locker room in Milwaukee. Rooted even more deeply knowing Vee is at my house, preparing to watch the game, because she believes in me.

+ + +

Hours later, I return to my hotel room and check Vee’s status, hoping she took up my offer to spend her nights at my place, not just use my home during the day.

In my bed, nightlight?

Vee: Is this my new nickname? It might work better as a code word.

Me: I’m calling you.

Vee answers on the first ring and a sigh of relief escapes me. “Do we need a code word? And where did nightlight even come from?”

“Cee-Cee.” Vee chuckles, the sound like a beacon in my dark hotel room. “My best friend has a strange sense of humor.”

I smile. “Our word should be happenstance.”

“Oh, do we need a word for something?” She laughs again. “And I thought you preferred happy chance.”

I laugh quietly. “You remember that.”

“I remember everything,” she says in a poor imitation of me. Still, her voice is playful, and I smile wider, something warm and comforting washes over me.

“Happy chance is my phrase for you. To describe you giving me a second one.”

The phone goes quiet a second. I’ve been trying to keep my feelings more to myself, not wanting to overwhelm Vee again and not able to make her promises yet. I just want to see where we go. She explained to me her characters lead her writing, tell their own story, and I want to see where my story takes me with Vee. Still, I worry that I’ve said too much, and I clear my throat. “Anyway—”

“I’m in your bed,” Vee softly interjects, and I freeze. I’d been pacing back and forth before the hotel window like a caged animal.

“Yeah?” I swallow hard, picturing her in the dark blue sheets. The light on the nightstand dimly illuminating my room. Her soft curves in one of my T-shirts.

“Yeah.” Her voice is quiet.

“What are you wearing?”

Vee laughs loud and hard. “Oh, are we doing that?”

I don’t know what we’re doing, but I want to know so I can picture her even better. “Tell me.”

“I’m wearing an Anchors tee.”

Yes. Mental fist pump. “With my number on it?” I choke, imaging the 33 on her back, or maybe on her chest, the top loop of each number curling around her breasts. It’s been too long since I’ve seen those beauties.

“Nope. This is just a generic one.”

“Still. A good visual.”

“A good visual of what?”

I hear the smile in her voice.