I started with the Renegades part way through last year. They were in last place and the former General Manager let the team go to shit. It was more like watching misfits play stickball than major league baseball. There was drinking in the clubhouse, escorts who loitered in the VIP section and a lot of marriages were crumbling.
Mine crumbled long before I got here though. Not that I was married, but I was damn near close. I should’ve been at least three times, by all accounts, with as many dates that were set, but we never made it down the aisle. Hell, we never even made it to the tux shop or sent out invites. I supposed with the lack of finality, no one’s in a hurry to do anything. It’s easy to change the date when no one knows you’ve set one.
My ex-fiancée is who every teenage boy dreams of falling in love with. When I met Hadley Carter, I was seventeen, lost and very impressionable. My home life sucked, I had exactly one friend and I was destined to work in the same mill that the Stone men before me had worked. Hadley opened my eyes to a whole new world and she also broke my heart. Our relationship, which was kept hidden, was a whirlwind of love, emotions and secrets. It was the secrets that came back to destroy us. Hadley is a major recording artist. Her concerts sell out within hours, her label loves her and she’s in high demand, so high that it cost us our relationship.
It took four years until I saw her again in the flesh. One random night I was out with my friends and there she was, standing a few feet from me. That same night, we reconnected and I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.
I knew that up until a year ago when I was offered the interim GM job with Boston, I jumped on it. We needed something different and I thought she would be happy. I wanted her to quit touring for a bit, set a wedding date and let us be married for a while. Turns out, my plan was not the same as her plan. She went on tour and I moved here.
I thought she’d follow or at least move her belongings to my new condo, but she didn’t. After a while, you just stop trying. I know I did. I couldn’t find time to call her at midnight when her shows were over, and I didn’t want to wake her up by calling too early. Our schedules didn’t mesh. I got busy and so did she.
Breaking up with the one you love is life changing. How I came to that decision, I’ll never know. Deep down, I knew Hadley would’ve never done it and more than likely pretended that everything was okay with us, but I couldn’t. My life was split in half. One part of me wanted to give up the life I was building before she came back and tour with her. I tried that, in the off-season, but it wasn’t the life for me. Back when we first met, I broke every rule ever set for me just to be with her. She showed me what it was like to have a glamorous life and for the longest time, I could see myself following her around. Sure, at seventeen, I didn’t know what I wanted, except for her. She was everything I wanted. When she broke up with me, my life took a different path. My parents weren’t going to pay for my college, and at the time, I wasn’t even living at home due to them finding out about my relationship with Hadley. My best friend, Dylan, and I moved to New York City. I took every business class I could at a community college while working a job to help keep Dylan and me in an apartment. Everything paid off, and I landed a dream job with the Yankees. Then Hadley walked back into my life. It was happenstance. We were both in the right place at the time right time. I never looked back after that night. Until now.
The other part of me wanted Hadley to stop performing, not stop singing. Sadly for me, those go hand in hand. I wanted us to have time to build a life together without touring being in the way. We lived by her calendar and while I have a busy schedule, mine at least afforded us vacation time.
For the first year, she didn’t tour and didn’t release anything new. Life was perfect. We spent our first Christmas in Cancun surrounded by pristine beaches and the warm sun. It wasn’t until we’d been together for two and half years did our schedules really start to impact our lives. We both worked long hours, we both traveled and we both forgot about each other. Hadley thought that we should have a child, said it would bring us closer and we’d be forced to make changes to our work schedules. I said no. I told her that I wasn’t ready and that a baby shouldn’t be used as a pawn for us to make changes.
Being offered the job in Boston was eye opening. Hadley doesn’t have to live in New York so I didn’t think it would be a big deal. I thought we’d move, maybe buy a house and really start making plans. When I first pitched the idea to her, she seemed to be on board, but that quickly changed when she told me she was going on an eighteen-month tour and wanted me to quit and go with her. When I told her no, she blew it off saying she wouldn’t be gone the entire time and would have a month off between her international and US dates, together with some long weekends. I didn’t know if that was her way of saying everything would be okay or not. It wasn’t for me. I still expected her to move with me to Boston. If you’re about to spend the next year and half on the road, what’s it matter where your physical address is?
It’s not in Boston, which was evident when I started showing her condos to rent. She told me she wanted to stay in New York because of work. Her studio, manager and label were there and it was convenient. For the first time since I was seventeen, I cried. I wanted her with me. I needed her with me. Even having her clothes or stupid high-heels in our bedroom was better than anything.
Eventually, I made the conscious decision to move. If she wasn’t going to be home there was no need for me to stay. She promised everything would be fine. It was just a tour and once it was over, we’d be back together. Except life doesn’t work like that and now we’re not together.
When we broke up, I expected to find our demise splashed all over Page Six, but it wasn’t. Her publicist never released a statement. I don’t know if that was for my benefit or hers. When I see her in magazines and on television, because I have to torture myself, she still wears the ring I put on her finger so many years ago. Why she still does, I’ll never know, nor will I find out. It’s been a year since we’ve spoken, since she begged me not to do this to us. I had to. I had to make the best decision for me.
It’s hard to make a life-altering decision, but when I think about it, each conscious decision you make is life altering. Whether you make a change in your daily routine, leave your house five minutes late or start dating the boss’ daughter, your life has changed.
Six months ago, I took a step that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to take and started seeing Jessica Robertson, daughter of Mitch Robinson, owner of the Boston Renegades. She pursued me, with her father’s blessing, and she knows everything about Hadley and me. The difference in my relationship with Jessica is that we date. We go out and talk, see movies and let our relationship progress naturally. With Hadley, everything happened so fast – most of it in secret – and we never really had the chance to be a normal couple.
Dating Jessica is easy. She grew up with her father not being at home during the season. She loves baseball and doesn’t mind being at the stadium. To her, a baseball life is second nature and that fits in with who I am right now.
Most importantly, she knows I’m still in love with Hadley.
Standing outside the grand ballpark, it hits me like a ton of bricks that I never visited Ryan at work. I don’t know why. I guess I didn’t need to. Living in the same city, I never found the urge to surprise him at work. Looking back now, I see that was a mistake
on my part. I’ve heard so many romantic stories about spur-of-the-moment lunches or walks in the park. Maybe he was right in breaking up with me. I can’t remember if I actually made time for “us” outside of living together.
As soon as I step inside the concourse, my heart races and my palms start to sweat. I’m not a nervous person by nature, but knowing that I’m about to see Ryan for the first time in a year has me on edge. As many times as I’ve been in stadiums, I’ve never been on the concourse. I’ve never been to a major sporting event or another concert as a fan. In this moment, I feel as if I’ve missed out on an important American pastime. There are food vendors of every food imaginable lining both sides. Every few openings are spots where you can buy game gear. Ryan’s closet was full of gear and I often teased him that he had nothing fancy except for a tuxedo. My heels tap loudly against the concrete floor as I traverse down the hall looking for a sign that will tell me how to find his office. This is something I should’ve done with Ryan when he first started working here. I should’ve made the time to check out his office and meet his co-workers, but I didn’t. The more I think about my actions during the break-up, the more I’m convinced that I’m shallow and unworthy of his love. I know deep down that isn’t true, but walking these halls while I look for his office sure makes me feel that way.
“Can I help you?”
I turn to see an older man behind me. He’s dressed in a baseball uniform and it dawns on me that today might be a game day. I never stopped to check. Ryan may be too busy to talk to me. He may suggest I come back at a different time, knowing that my schedule is tight and that flexibility is not my best friend. The man stares at me. His eyes aren’t roaming around my body in a perverted sense, but he knows that I don’t belong here. I smile, hoping to ease his worries. I have no doubt the players get all kinds of stalkers and people trying to break into the locker room. I’m only trying to find their boss.
“I’m looking for Ryan Stone’s office.”
His gaze turns sharp and now I have no doubt he’s looking at me as if I’m some sort of psycho. I may have ignored Ryan’s career move, but I do know he’s the youngest general manager in baseball history and he’s single – a prize to any woman looking for that better fish in the sea. I should know. I caught him. Twice.
“Mr. Stone is a very busy man,” he says with a thick Boston accent. It’s always amazed me how different the dialects are from New York to Boston. We’re so close, only a few hundred miles separating us, yet we’re so different.
“I have no doubt, but I need to see him. Is there someone I can talk to that may be able to call him?”
“You don’t have his number?” he asks a very valid question. Yes, I have his number, but I’m hoping for the element of surprise. My ideal situation puts me in the general vicinity of his office where I can be announced and he can’t run from me. Cell phones can be ignored and calls sent to voicemail. I don’t want to give him that option.
I pull my phone out of my purse and wave it at him. I contemplate giving him my story, telling him who I am, but my status was never important to Ryan. He never once asked me to sing the National Anthem at one of the games or asked me to donate to a charity dinner. I gladly held his arm at many, but was always introduced as Hadley Carter, fiancée. I know that I can tell this man who I am and use a sentence like, “shall I have my publicist call Mr. Stone’s secretary”, but that doesn’t accomplish what I’m here to do.
I take a deep breath and prepare for this old man’s eyes to widen. Clearing my throat, I square my shoulders and grin. “I’m Mr. Stone’s ex-fiancée. I’m passing through town, and I thought I’d surprise him.”
His eyes do in fact widen, and it’s neither a good nor bad thing. He either realizes who I am from the tabloids or maybe from Ryan, but I doubt the latter. Ryan was never a gossip, especially about us. Dylan was though, and I’m sure she still is. However, most people know who I am. I’ve been around long enough to make some type of impact on one’s memory. Or it’s a bad sign. I said the words ‘ex-fiancée’ and this man knows nothing about me.