Unforgettable (Cloverleigh Farms #5)(32)

“Sounds familiar.”

David laughed. “You had more than he does.”

“Well, I had to learn it. Your dad taught me that. Made me slow down and rededicate myself to the mechanics.” I was sort of warming to the idea of passing on the knowledge. “I might be able to come by.”

“That would be awesome. I’m not even gonna say anything to the guys, because they’ll fucking lose it, and we’ve got a game tonight.”

“Oh yeah? Where?”

“At home. You should come check it out. Chip, the lefty, is pitching.”

For a second, I thought about it. Maybe April would come with me. “Oh wait—I can’t. I’ve got my sister’s rehearsal dinner tonight. She’s getting married tomorrow. That’s why I’m in town.”

“Oh. Well . . .” He shrugged. “We’d love to see you at practice tomorrow if you can fit it in. Ten a.m.”

“Sounds good. But David.” I squared my shoulders and spoke firmly. “I don’t throw in public. Not even for practice.”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to throw. You could just talk to them. Help Chip with his motion.”

Just then, my sister appeared at the table, her hair damp from the rain. “Hey.”

“Hey, Sadie. You remember David Dean, my old coach?”

She smiled at him. “I do, but he was Mr. Dean, geography teacher, to me. Nice to see you.”

“You too, Sadie,” he said. “Congratulations on your wedding.”

“Thanks.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “I’m not going to stress about the rain. I’m not going to stress about the rain. I’m not going to stress about the rain.”

David grinned. “Nope, not at all. Well, I’ll let you two have lunch. Good seeing you both. Tyler, hope you can make it tomorrow.”

I nodded and sat down, and Sadie dropped into the chair across from me. “What’s he talking about?” she asked.

“Baseball practice. He and his dad—I ran into Coach Dean this morning at breakfast—are on me to stop by the team practice tomorrow morning.”

“What time?”

“Ten.”

She nodded. “That works. You should do it.”

“I’m thinking about it.”

She shrugged out of a light jacket. “God, this weather better break.”

“April thinks it will.”

Sadie looked up at me and tucked her wet hair behind her ears. “How did it go with her last night?”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Yeah. It was fun.”

She stared at me. “No. Do not give me the man version of events—I want the details.”

I rolled my eyes, prepared to give her only a slightly longer man version, but I was saved by the server who came to take our order. Once we were alone again, though, Sadie persisted.

“Well?” she prompted, giving me a gentle kick in the shin for good measure.

“I met her at Cloverleigh’s bar. We had some food and drinks. We talked about old times. It was nice.”

She digested that. “Did you apologize?”

“Actually, I did. But you were wrong.”

“About what?”

“I didn’t abandon her. I specifically asked her if I had.”

Her eyes widened. “What made you do that?”

“I don’t know. I guess you got me thinking about it.” I leaned on the table with both elbows. “I started doubting my recollection of the events and realized maybe it wasn’t the only version of the story.”

“Wow.” She blinked. “I’m impressed. I didn’t really think you’d do it.”

“I wasn’t going to. But . . . I don’t know.” I sat back and shrugged. “At the end of the night, the question just sort of slipped out, and we wound up having a conversation about it.”

Her brows shot up. “Interesting.”

The server returned with our drinks, and Sadie took a sip of her herbal tea. I probably should have let the subject drop right there, but for some reason, I didn’t.

“It was a boy,” I said.

Sadie looked up at me in surprise, nearly choking on her tea. “You asked that too?”

“Yes.”

“Wow. Wow.” She sat back and studied me. “And how do you feel about that?”

“Fine.” I shrugged. “It doesn’t really affect me, you know?”

“It doesn’t?”

“No. She told me he was adopted by two amazing people who really wanted a baby, and she knew right away they were the mom and dad. I told her I was glad to hear it.”

My sister nodded slowly. “Well, I’m glad to hear that too.”

“Good. So now we never have to discuss it again.”

“Okay, but one more thing.”

“What?”

“Did she tell you his name?”

“Charles.”

“Charles,” she repeated softly. “What’s his middle name?”

I shrugged. “I didn’t ask.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know.” I frowned, scratching my head. “Look, I didn’t ask about him for him, I asked about him for April. I wanted to hear that she was okay.”