The Trade(121)

And no, I didn’t put makeup on, despite what Jason thinks.

I put on my best suit, navy-blue, with a white button-up that has a faint light blue checkered pattern sewn through it and made sure my brown shoes matched perfectly with my belt. I styled my hair to the best of my ability, knowing there are still some bald spots in the back I can’t hide without a hat, and then put on my best watch.

I felt good walking out of my apartment, but now that I’m here, breathing the same air as her, my nerves are shot and I’m seconds away from running out the door.

“Maybe I don’t want you in my wedding.” Jason eyes me up and down. “You look too good in a suit.”

“Hey,” Dottie says, pulling Jason’s eyes away from mine. “The man crush is strong, tone it down.”

“Sorry, he’s just . . . fuck, he’s a stud and he’s leading the entire league in homeruns, RBIs, and batting percentage. He’s the boss.”

I shake my head and say, “I’m going to get a drink,” and take off toward the bar, keeping my eyes open for a—now—blonde with one hell of a smile. I just hope I get to catch it tonight.

While I’m waiting for my Coke Zero—living it large—I catch Maddox from the corner of my eye. He nods to me and then dips his head to the side while raising his eyebrow. I glance to where he’s motioning and that’s where I see Natalie wearing a beautiful light blue dress that looks like it’s painted on her body, framing her every curve and making her look like a beautiful ice queen with her blonde hair and bright blue eyes.

My heart trips in my chest as I take her in, observe her from afar. She charms the people around her with her beaming smile so easily, she attracts the attention of the men in the room, and she doesn’t even realize it. I can faintly hear her laugh from where I’m standing, and it sends a jolt of yearning through my veins, giving me enough courage to make my way toward her after I get my drink.

I feel like a missile, homing in on its target, as I weave through people chatting about the charity, conversing over the season, and speaking of the amazing athletes The Lineup is serving. And even though these are conversations I would normally take part in, there’s nothing stopping me now as I’m only a few feet away from Natalie. And just as I’m about to question my sanity once again, she smiles, and I stop dead in my tracks as a surge of lust booms so hard in my chest that I nearly fall forward.

Fuck . . . I love her.

I love her so damn much, and if I don’t leave this event with her in my arms, I’m not sure I’ll be able to put one foot in front of the other tomorrow.

She places her hand on the back of the woman she’s been talking to, says she will speak to her later, and then starts to walk in my direction but stutters to a stop when she sees me, staring at her, waiting for her, yearning for her.

I watch as she composes herself, morphing her face from surprise to calm in a matter of seconds. Her chest rises in a deep breath and then falls right before she takes a step toward me. I do the same, closing the space quickly. Thankfully we’re tucked away from the crowd, so when I say hi, my voice shaky and uncontrolled, no one can hear it but her.

“Hi.” She gives me a half-smile. “Thank you for coming tonight. It means a lot to Jason.”

“Just to Jason?” I ask, my body yearning to touch her, sweep her hair behind her ear, lean in to smell the sweet scent of her perfume.

Nervously she glances down at her drink and says, “To me too.”

Fuck, I can barely hear her over the roaring of my pulse, beating so hard, so fast, so loud, that everything else seems muffled in my ears.

Swallowing hard, I ask, “How are you, Natalie?”

Tucking her hair behind her ear, she slowly looks up at me and studies me for a few breaths before she says, “I’m fine. A little shocked that you know how to have a conversation with me.”

I deserve that.

Gripping my drink tightly so I don’t push my hand through my hair, I say, “There’s no excuse other than I was not expecting to see you in the dugout on opening day, and it rattled me.”

She twists her lips and avoids eye contact, so I take a step forward, wanting to make sure she hears me.

“I was in a really bad place and treated you like you meant nothing to me, and that couldn’t be further from the truth.”

On a deep breath, she plasters on a fake smile and says, “Don’t worry about it, Cory. It’s in the past.” She points toward some tables and says, “We have those cupcakes again that you like so much, be sure to help yourself.”

“Don’t,” I say, as she starts to push me away. “Stay, talk to me, even if it’s just about the weather. Please just talk to me.”

“Cory,” she says softly and shakes her head, “it’s not that easy.”

“Then talk to me about something else, about us, about how I fucked up—”

“This is not the time nor place for that conversation.”

Feeling desperate, I say, “Then meet me after this is done. Coffee, dessert, anything.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know, Cory.”

“Please,” I say, taking one more step forward. “At least give me the chance to apologize.”

Looking up at me through her lashes, she says, “Where is this coming from?” Whispering she adds, “It’s been months since I’ve heard from you.”