“Travis, I’m afraid the women in your life have spoken.”
I try to hide my smile, but I can’t. “Whether I’ll have cleats on is left to be seen, Paul.”
With that, my interview is over. We shake hands, and he promises to get this edited and on the air as soon as possible. Saylor takes care of the remaining logistics while I head to Lucy’s room to play dress-up. It’s a tough job, but someone’s gotta do it.
Epilogue
Saylor
“I’m in heaven!”
“He’s a slice I’d like to eat.”
“Too bad he’s married.”
“Not once he meets me.”
“Those pants are so tight.”
This is the conversation going on behind me and the WAGs of the Renegades. It’s taking everything in me not to turn around and tell them all to shut the hell up. But this is part of the lifestyle. We take it and deal with it on our own, never letting the guys know what goes on in the stands.
They have me questioning my sanity, though, because I’ve always thought heaven to be white fluffy clouds, harps playing, and men in togas with wings on their backs and halos on their heads floating around without a care in the world.
According to these ladies, heaven is sitting on plastic seats in the sweltering Florida sun, watching grown men grope themselves, spit, and play in the dirt while wearing tight pants.
The tight pants I can agree with, as long as they’re not skinny jeans or spandex. I’m talking about baseball pants. I’m talking about my-husband-bent-over-and-showing-me-his-ass-while-he-ties-his-shoes baseball pants.
This is my first ever spring training, and up until a few weeks ago, I didn’t know if I was going to experience this as a wife or an agent. Travis waited until the night before to make his decision after he met with the team, Wes Wilson, and Ryan Stone. For hours, I paced the hotel room, waiting for him to come back and share the news with me. And when he finally did, I was elated. I knew deep in my heart that he wasn’t ready to give up on baseball, and the fans of Boston aren’t ready to give up on him.
In a couple of weeks, we’re heading back north to begin our life as a baseball family. Travis and I have discussed his schedule, and we think it’d be best that Lucy stay home during the weeknight games due to how late they run. We are both prepared for the fight we’ll have on our hands when we have to tell Lucy she can’t go until the weekend. Travis is also going to be the one to take Lucy to school every day. Prior to leaving for Florida, he was the one to pick her up. He told me that he doesn’t want to not be involved in her education and felt that it was important that her teachers see us, no matter what. I’m all for sleeping in if he wants to do the morning run.
My in-laws walk down the row in front of me, waving wildly. I stand and hug them both before they sit down. It’s been a pleasure being in Florida and getting to know them. They absolutely dote on Lucy, and although Travis said that his family life was strained while growing up, his parents have been nothing but accommodating and accepting. My mom arrives next with her hands full of popcorn and water. She’s been having a blast down here, and I have a feeling she’s going to move into the house that Travis recently purchased.
Being in Boston without my mother will be difficult, and I’ll miss her terribly, but moving will be good for her. She’s retired and only stayed there to help me out. Now that I’m running my own business, my time can be flexible—plus, Travis will be around. And it’s not like we won’t visit. I fully intend to come down as much as possible, especially when the Renegades are playing.
“Did we miss anything?” Terry asks.
“Only the women behind us objectifying the men,” Daisy says. Both my mother and Tonya turn and look through the gaps between us.
“Hussies,” Tonya says, causing us all to laugh.
“Ignore them, Tonya. We know where Travis sleeps at night,” my mother says, much to my surprise.
“Mother!”
She shrugs and doesn’t turn around to look at me. Ainsley and Daisy start laughing, and I’m speechless. Maybe it’s not such a good idea for the two moms to hang out with each other after all.
After the national anthem is played, the guys run out onto the field. Travis and Ethan come over to the fence where Lucy, Shaun, and Shea, Ethan’s niece, are standing and give them high fives. A lot of the families have made it to Florida for spring training this year.
“Saylor?”
I look at Travis after he calls my name. He tosses a ball into the stands, caught easily by his father, who hands it to me.
“Thanks,” I say, holding it in the air.
“Read it,” he yells.
I turn the ball over in my hands until I come across his handwriting. I love you, Saylor, it says in his scrawl.