The Trade(19)

“You know,” I say, looking around the room, “I don’t even think Cory is here, even if I wanted to say hi to him. Not that I would, but I think you can stop being mad because—”

“He’s to the left of the bar talking to someone. I think a relief pitcher. I have no idea.”

He’s here?

A bundle of nerves releases in the pit of my stomach as I look toward the left of the bar but don’t see him.

“No, he’s—” The man in a navy-blue suit turns slightly and I catch his profile. Oh Jesus, that’s Cory?

I don’t remember him being so . . . distinguished in person.

Tall frame that towers over most of the men in the room, broad shoulders that appear sculpted even through the layer of his suit, strong, long legs that extend to large feet. He must wear at least a size fourteen. His body commands the room, but his personality rests on the gentler side, not grabbing attention with alpha gestures and pompous outbursts.

Thinking back to the fundraiser, I remember how hard it was to find the courage to talk to him. It took a lot of convincing and inner dialogue to get my feet moving, but once I introduced myself, I realized why everyone loves him so much—he’s incredibly sweet. One of the best baseball players in history, and he’s grounded. He doesn’t wear an air of arrogance along with his jersey, nor does he speak to you as if you’re beneath him.

He’s real.

“You’re staring,” Dottie points out with humor in her voice.

I quickly look away and nibble on the inside of my cheek. “I just didn’t recognize him, that’s all.”

“Come on.” Dottie leans across the table. “Just say hi. Jason said you met at the fundraiser, so he knows you. It would be rude if you didn’t say hi.”

I don’t like being rude.

No, I shake the idea out of my head. Under any other circumstance, I’d say hi because that would be the polite thing to do, especially after he donated a large check to The Lineup, but I don’t think I’d act normal under Dottie’s watchful eye.

“I can’t. You’re making me nervous.”

“Lame excuse.” Poking my hand, she says, “Weren’t you just saying the other day how you want to have fun? Experience your twenties?” I should really keep my mouth shut. “This is your chance. Cory is the perfect specimen to experience that with. We all know he’s not a relationship guy. Milly has said that many times. He’s not remotely interested in being serious with anyone, not until after he retires from baseball. He’s the perfect guy to have a fling with.”

“But he’s a part of the group. It would be weird.”

“No, it would be great. You both aren’t looking for anything serious, so it’s the perfect situation.”

I glance at Cory again, watching how he laughs easily with the rest of the guys, how he casually lifts his beer to his lips, letting the taste of the liquid wet his tongue before he lowers the pint glass. He’s smooth in his motions, interested in the conversations he shares with others and from firsthand experience, I know he’s a good listener.

In fact, it’s almost disappointing he doesn’t do relationships, because he is perfect boyfriend material.

“I don’t know,” I say, feeling incredibly unsure of myself. Growing quiet, I say, “The confidence to talk to someone like him, in that capacity, isn’t really there.”

“What are you talking about?” Dottie asks, her voice losing its edge. “You’re beautiful inside and out—”

“And yet my husband still cheated on me,” I say, the nasty aftermath of Ansel’s infidelity surfacing once again.

“That’s not on you,” Dottie says. “Because your husband was insecure with himself does not mean his cheating is your fault. His infidelity has nothing to do with you and everything to do with him.”

It’s not the first time I’ve heard someone say that to me, and a part of me believes it to be true. Ansel had some issues that extended far beyond our marriage, issues I tried to help him with but he refused any sort of helping hand. There was nothing I could do to help him, I know that, but it still doesn’t negate the vows we took, the promises we made each other, the years we spent as partners in crime. I’d chosen to grow old with him, have a family with him, never have to worry about the dating world again. But that all changed. Slowly, but it changed.

“I know, but it’s hard to bounce back from something like that.” I take her hand in mine and give it a squeeze. “I understand what you’re trying to do, and I really appreciate it, but the dating world hasn’t been kind to me. I’m not about to go flirt with Cory Potter with the kind of luck I’ve been having.”

Finally letting up, Dottie nods. “I can understand that.” She glances over at him and then back at me. “For what it’s worth, I think you two would be really hot together.” It’s because he’s Cory Fucking Potter. He’s hot.

I chuckle. “Thank you . . . I guess.”





I tap my fingers on the bar, waiting for my drink as Dottie and Jason talk up one of the backup catchers. I’ve met quite a few guys and their significant others. I’ve boasted about The Lineup and the many great things we’re doing, and they’ve all congratulated us on our success and our special brother-sister bond. Apparently, our bond is rare, which seems odd to me. Yes, Jason and I bicker, but I couldn’t imagine not leaning on him for mental support. He’s my confidant, one of my best friends, and my go-to guy when I’m feeling down. I know he’ll always cheer me up with his ridiculousness.