Grant tilts his head to the side. “And how’d that work out for them? Kind of rough, isn’t it?”
My eyes bug out. “You did not just say that to me.”
“I kind of did. Have I told you that your boyfriend is a competitive bastard?” Grant asks.
“I knew that about my boyfriend. But I thought he would be a little more sympathetic,” I say with a huff.
“This is sports, dear,” my mother tuts. “There’s no sympathy in baseball. It’s cutthroat.”
Tyler nods. “Do or die. And listen, I hope you understand, Declan, but we’re not even going to pretend to root for the Dragons.”
“As if I thought you would,” I say.
Mom steps forward, wraps her arms around me in a hug, dropping the ribbing, going straight into mom mode. “But I will say this much: I am so happy that you’re a Dragon. I’m so happy for you.” As she holds me close, tucking her face against my neck, her throat hitches and her voice breaks. She brings me even closer, whispering, “I am so happy for you that you’re here. So unbelievably happy that you can be with your love.”
“Me too,” I whisper.
When Mom pulls back, she sucks in her tears then swipes a hand across her face. Tyler steps in, wraps an arm around her, and presses a kiss to her cheek. “You don’t have to pretend you’re not crying,” he says softly.
Pursing her lips together, she runs her fingertips under her eyes again. “Fine. I’m crying. And seeing the two of you like this”—she gestures from me to Grant—“is my greatest joy.”
Grant smiles then turns to plant a quick kiss on my lips. “Hopefully that makes you happy too. It makes me pretty happy to do that to your son,” he says to her.
My mom’s hand flies to her heart, and Tyler lets a tear slide down his face too.
I wave a hand dismissively. “You guys are going to get me all choked up. And don’t you know, there’s no crying in baseball,” I say, a little rough and gravelly.
Grant reaches for my hand. I don’t know if this means we’re telling the world that we’re together. I don’t know if anyone is walking by taking our picture.
But I also know that I don’t care. Right now, my life is somehow even better than it was twenty minutes ago.
37
Grant
Yes, I want to be alone with my guy.
But I want something more right now. I want to make him happy—as happy as he makes me. The great thing about Declan 2.0 is he tells me what he wants. He lets on. He gave me the keys to his wishes the day I got my real World Series ring. That night, he shared his dreams.
I have this fantasy of seeing you in the stands. Locking eyes. Of calling my shot and hitting a homer for you.
I can give that to him, so I turn to his mom and Tyler, like I’ve got an ace up my sleeve. “Would you like to go to Declan’s game tomorrow? All of us together?”
His mom’s eyes sparkle like Fourth of July fireworks. “I would love that.”
“Let’s make it a party. I’ll invite some of my Cougar buds and my best friend, Reese.” I drop my voice to a stage whisper. “Her boyfriend is a Dragon too.” I shudder, all over the top. “She and I are kinda in the same boat. In love with the enemy.”
Declan slides his arm tighter around my waist, laughing. “You’re never gonna stop.”
I drop a kiss onto his cheek. “Nope.” Then I turn back to his mom. “I’ll get tickets. Don’t worry—since I’m a Cougar, I can get awesome ones. We’ll get a whole crew, and we’ll root for this guy,” I say, looking at Declan again. He rolls his eyes, but he’s happy. I’ve made him happy by making plans to go to his first game.
“I think that sounds like a perfect night,” his mom says.
“We’d love to go. We never turn down a baseball game,” Tyler adds, then winks at Declan. “Even a Dragons one.”
“Awesome,” I say, then hold up a finger. “I have a gift for you, Cyndi—Wait. Can I call you Cyndi, or do you prefer Mrs. Martin?”
She laughs, shaking her head. “Cyndi is great.”
I unlock the front door, rush inside, grab a little something from the drawer in the entryway table, then return to the porch. Outside, under the San Francisco sky, I show Declan’s mom the baseball.
“Since you’re such a Cougars fan, I thought maybe you’d like a signed one,” I say, squaring my shoulders.
Declan scoffs. “You are really hard to take,” he harrumphs.
“Ignore him,” I tell his mom and Tyler.
“We will,” Tyler says.
I inscribe the baseball just for her, sign it, and hand it to the mom of the guy I love. When she reads it, her breath catches. Holding the ball like it’s a precious jewel, she throws her arms around me, hugging me so tight she nearly knocks me off-balance.