“What I’m saying is I had a lovely time and I’m going to see him again. I want to see what happens. It seems kind of foolish not to.”
I repeat her words in my head—kind of foolish not to.
They feel true.
They feel important.
They feel like one of those statements someone makes that stays with you.
That becomes a brand-new mantra.
More powerful than the one about speaking up.
Or maybe it’s the perfect corollary. “Are those words to live by?”
“I think they are,” she says, then tilts her head, studying me. “Is there something you’d be foolish not to do?”
The answer is as obvious as knowing who I want to hire for the GM.
As instinctive as selecting what pair of shoes to wear.
As simple as talking to my mom.
I know what I want.
“I fell in love with Crosby,” I confess, my throat catching, “and I think the timing is all wrong.”
“But you think you’d be foolish not to try to make it work?”
A tear slides down my cheek. “I do. I want to have it all. And really, why be a fool?”
She lifts her mug and clinks it to my glass.
That night when I slide into my bed, two messages light up my phone.
One is a reply from my friend in Europe.
Scarlett: You should have it all. And if something is getting in the way, figure out how to get rid of it and go get your all.
Then a note from my brother.
Eric: Just landed. Anything interesting happen while I was in the Maldives?
I run my thumb over his message. Should I tell him? Well, not that I discovered I love when Crosby plays with my ass.
But rather that I’m in love with his best friend?
I flash back to the mantra that has served me well.
Don’t be afraid to speak up.
I answer Eric with three words.
Nadia: Yes. Crosby happened.
31
Crosby
I cut the engine in my mom’s driveway, grateful that she stayed up for me. I head up the steps to her lemon-yellow Victorian house, lined up amid the painted ladies on Steiner Street, and the second I reach the top, she opens the door with a soft whoosh.
She lifts a finger to her lips, letting me know Kana’s asleep. I nod and slip out of my shoes as I go inside. We pad quietly to the sunroom at the back of her house on the far side from the bedrooms.
Starlight streams through the windows, and I grab a seat on the rattan couch, tossing my keys on the table. Mom pats my leg. “Want some tea? Some sliced mango? Kale soup?”
Laughing quietly, I shake my head. “Nope. Just good old-fashioned advice.”
“Ah, that’s a piece of carrot cake,” she says, then pats my leg again. “I assume this is about Nadia?”
“How did you know?” I ask, but truthfully, I’m not surprised.
“Like I said the other night, it’s been years.”
“Yeah, what did you mean by that?”
She licks her lips, a sign that she’s thinking. “It means I always saw something between you two. But especially you. You were so . . . enchanted with her.”
My heart warms like the sun. “Sounds about right.”
“You loved listening to her tell stories, you loved talking to her, and you were nearly impossible to pull away from her when you were at their house,” she adds.
I groan, dropping my head into my hand. “What am I going to do?”
Her soft laugh fills the room. “Stop being so superstitious, I presume?”
I look up. “Why do you assume I’m being superstitious?”
“Because I raised you. You always liked your routine, everything in order. Practice at a certain time. Putting in so much work. Wearing your lucky socks. If you had a bad game, you’d figure out what you’d done differently and try to undo it,” she says, calm and knowing.
I push out a forced laugh. “Sounds like me.”
She smiles like it’s a fond memory. “And you’d analyze every game. See what you could learn from it. Do better. It’s served you well in baseball, all the way to the major leagues.” She squeezes my leg. “But I suspect you’re not worried about baseball right now.”
I slump back against the couch, heave a sigh, and scrub a hand over the back of my neck. “No. I’m here about the woman. The one who enchants me.”
She chuckles knowingly. “Well then.”
I cock my head, meeting her eyes. “Well then, what?”
She rolls her eyes, something she rarely does. “I feel as if your question has already been answered.”
I frown, trying to unpack her meaning.
But then I stop.
I stop analyzing, and I listen to what she just said.
I can’t apply baseball logic to women. I can’t force superstitions on love. And I definitely can’t expect lucky-sock reasoning to apply to my past.
Or my present.
Or the future I want to have.
“So what if I swore off women?” I say, straightening. “So what if I was taking a break?” I stand to pace the room. “Who cares if I should take things slow, or if the timing is wrong? None of that matters.”
Mom simply grins.
I grab my keys from the table. “This isn’t about being smart or measured or patient. This is about not being a dumbass who lets the woman who enchants me pass me by.”
She stands, clasping my shoulders. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
I hug her hard, kiss her cheek, then get the hell out of there, dialing Eric from the car.
He starts speaking as soon as he picks up. “Well, I bet you—”
“Listen, I broke the pact. I don’t care. I’m in love with your sister. Some people aren’t meant to be just friends.”
He coughs, sputters, then laughs. “I’m not in the least bit surprised.”
Ten minutes later, I pull up to the curb outside Nadia’s house, turn off the car, and call her as soon as I hit the sidewalk.
She answers right away, sounding breathless. “Hi, what’s going on?”
“Wait. Are you going somewhere?”
“I’m in the elevator. I was going to see you.”
I grin like it’s going out of style.
