Dear Life(111)

With a wave of my hand, I welcome the two men into my home.

“Jer, it’s perfect,” Greg says, eyeing the recliner. “We are going to have a hard time fighting over it.”

“Nu-uh.” Jeremy waves his finger adoringly at his husband. “This is my chair. You promised me a recliner when we got that paisley couch from the elderly woman down the street. This is my chair.”

Shaking his head, Greg turns to me with a smile. “As you can tell, the chair will be well loved.”

Lips pressed together, eyes burning, I try to hold it together but there is no use, my emotions get the best of me. “I’m sorry.” I dab at my eyes.

“Are you okay?” Jeremy asks, pressing his hand against my arm tenderly.

“Yeah, just a tough day for me. The chair belonged to my late husband.”

“Oh my gosh, I don’t think we can take it from you.” Greg saddles up to me.

“No.” I shake my head. “You have to. I’m trying to move forward. This is one of the steps. Please take the chair and love it like my husband did. Make sure to only cheer for the Broncos while sitting in it,” I joke despite the falling tears.

“I wouldn’t dare root for any other team,” Jeremy reassures me with a hug, easing my breaking heart.

CARTER

“Dude, you’re kidding me with this sandwich, right?” Fitzy talks with his mouth full, sauce dripping from the side of his lips.

“What do you mean?” I’m wiping off my hands and waiting for the verdict.

“I’m about to explode from taste testing, but I can’t stop eating this. Who knew meatloaf could be so damn good.” He takes another bite and moans as he chews. “This is my favorite.”

“More than the Black Friday meatloaf sandwich?” Personally, that one is a close favorite since it’s made with ground turkey, apples, celery, and stuffing with a cranberry sauce and fried green beans on top.

“Oh fuck, I forgot about the Black Friday.” Staring down at his Mama Will Burn Your Ass Meatloaf Sandwich, he wavers between his favorite. “I don’t know, man. This one has jalapenos in it and bacon jam. But the Black Friday, that’s just Thanksgiving between two toasted brioche buns.” Throwing his hands up in the air, he says, “I can’t decide. They’re all good.”

There’s still one I haven’t shown him yet because once I tell him what it is, he’ll call me a cheese dick, and I’m not ready for that. But it tops the Black Friday, easily. Reminiscent of the Breaking Bad drink at Prohibition, it’s a cranberry meatloaf, topped with an orange marmalade and an oatmeal base. I’ve spent countless hours perfecting the recipe until I thought it would do her justice.

“I’m in,” Fitzy says, mouth full again. “I’m so fucking in.”

“Really?” I ask. Could this really be happening?

“Yeah, dude. Even before this taste testing I would have been in. I just wanted some free food. I believe in you, I wouldn’t miss the opportunity to invest in your future.”

“So you made me make all these sandwiches for you for nothing?”

“Not for nothing. I don’t have to worry about dinner now.”

With a shake of my head, I say, “You’re a dick.”

Eyebrows raised, he pats his mouth. “And here I was just about to give you five thousand dollars.”

“You can still be a dick and give me the money.” I smirk.

“I don’t know if I like this new side of you.” Fitzy motions at my body with his finger.

“What side of me?”

“The non-depressed, there’s-hope-for-my-future side. He smiles too damn much. It can’t just be from your new adventure. Did you finally get the girl back and not tell me?”

“No.” I turn toward the sink and start washing my dishes. I’m determined, though. “Not yet, but soon.”

JACE

I rub my hands on my thighs for the hundredth time, the polyester of my baseball pants starting to chafe my skin. The locker room is cleared, the rest of the team is out at batting practice, and since I took some balls in the cages next to the dugout earlier, Coach is cutting me a break to get my shit together, as he so eloquently put it. He’s been understanding through this entire journey, but I’m sure he’s ready to have his shortstop back, and I’m sure as hell ready to get back to normal play again as well.

I want to be able to breathe easy again.

But in order to do that, I need to do a couple things, and one of them is seeing her today.

Dread eats me alive as I sit in a hunched posture in the cubby of my locker. There is an ache in the back of my throat.

Footsteps sound in the hallway; Earl, our clubhouse manager’s voice echoing off the walls as they near. This is it. I have my speech prepared, and I’ve gathered all the damn courage I can muster.

Standing as the door opens, I take my hat off when I see June walk through, Alex follwing closely behind her with a stroller.

My stomach drops to the floor, my heartbeat picks up a few notches, and my mouth immediately goes dry. Yep, all the moisture in my body has gone straight to my eyes.

“Jace, it’s so great to see you.” June doesn’t bother shaking my hand; she goes straight for a hug. Her arms wrap around me tightly, her head to my chest, and I’m transported into a realm of comfort. This is the kind of a hug a mom would give.