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Malcolm has wanted me to be more involved. I suppose this would be a way to do it. It would also make me part of something. Solidify my place on the team, in Philadelphia, as Yadi’s…friend, I guess.

“I’ll email my PR guy about it. I’d rather not have to do anything. Just write a check.”

Yadi grins. “Don’t worry. I’ll do everything.” Then he reaches out to hit my knee. “So now, your turn.”

“My turn for what?”

“Show me your family. Pictures.”

“I don’t have pictures of them.”

He squints at me. “What happened with your brother? You can tell me. We’re best friends.”

“We’re not best friends, and I’m not telling you.”

He shrugs like he doesn’t care—because he probably doesn’t. He has the attention span of a goldfish. “Show me pictures of your girlfriend.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Yadi rolls his eyes. “I know you have pictures of Millie on your phone.”

I do, but that’s not the point. “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s my assistant.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that, but I do not think that is true.”

“I think you’re lost in translation.”

“No.” He points his finger at me. “I think you are.”

“Just shut up and watch your stupid show. I’m only staying for one episode.”

“Yala. Yala.” He shushes me like I was the one talking this whole time and sticks one arm behind his head to watch TV.

I don’t pay any attention, too busy flipping through the few pictures I have on my phone. Ones I snuck of Millie. Feeding Harold. Bent over a grocery bag. Talking to herself while fiddling with her cell phone on the floor of the living room. She does this thing where she repeats words or phrases, I think from shows or movies, but usually always in a funny voice, sometimes high-pitched and sometimes in a low gremlin voice. I couldn’t help but snap a picture of her, totally in her own world.

So beautiful with the morning sunlight streaming through the windows and her hair down. She had on a baggy shirt, mesh shorts, and crew socks pulled halfway up her calf. It shouldn’t have been so attractive, and yet I loved that she was so comfortable and in her element.

In my home.

So, yeah, I have a few photos of Millie in my phone.

It’s definitely weird and I’m a creep, but I’m going to delete them.

Later.

As soon as the episode finishes, I stand and hold my hand out to Yadi. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And I can only blame Millie’s influence on me for pulling Yadi into a hug after he daps me up. He lets out a squeak of surprise but wraps his arms tight around me, mumbling, “This is nice.”

I give him a pat on the back. “Okay. That’s enough.”

He gives me one more squeeze before letting go. “Thanks, manin. I needed that.”

I think I did too, but I keep quiet as I head out into the hall, all the while Yadi’s voice trails after me, wishing me a good night and to sleep like a bug in a rug because he heard that idiom once and uses it whenever possible.

After an elevator ride one floor up and a long walk to the end of the hall because I prefer to be in the last room, where it’s quietest, I kick off my shoes and flop onto my bed, typing up an email to Malcolm. It’s a few quick sentences, explaining how Yadi and I are interested in starting a charity to help lung cancer patients and their families. I hit send and then pull up the text thread of the two numbers belonging to Camden Long and Nico Tremblay. I scroll back through their messages, inviting me out.

But I did enough peopleing today and close it out. I’ll be pitching tomorrow and decide to focus on my game. To prepare the night before, I always recite the lineup in my head. I think about the pitches for each batter.