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At the first pitch, Luke pulled back his bat and swung across the plate. A loud crack echoed in the air as the ball sailed deep into the park. The outfielders ran toward the fence, but the ball landed in a corner. Luke ran to first base, passed second, and slid into third just as the umpire called him safe.
I jumped up, cupping my mouth, and cheered as loud as I could. “Yes! That’s my husband!”
Shaking off the dirt from his uniform, Luke looked up to the stands and his eyes caught mine. A brilliant smile spread across his face, so bright that I couldn’t look away. He stared at me, and an emotion I couldn’t explain crossed his face. He reminded me of a little boy who’d won his first championship. With his eyes holding mine, he brought two fingers to his lips, then pointed them at me.
I giggled like a teenager, bouncing on the tip of my toes with my hands clasped in front of my chest.
Moved to touch him, I waved frantically, as though the distance meant nothing, and I could feel him across the field. This was the fifth game of the season, but he pointed to me every time he saw me in the stands. And each time, my heart soared higher than any home run.
I love you, I mouthed across the field.
He grinned and I read his lips: I love you, too
I wished there was a way I could take back the past and all those times he felt alone.
But I couldn’t.
I could only promise that every day for the rest of our lives, I would always show up for him.
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