Fleeting Moments(3)

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“You can’t be serious?” Gerard yells, throwing one hand in the air while the other holds his phone to his ear. “You promised me one day!”

I listen as best I can, already dressed for the game, excitement set in.

“It’s my anniversary, Tom. My wife and I are going to a baseball game. I can’t believe you’d do this.”

He listens, fist clenched.

“I’ll be in soon.”

He hangs up and turns to me, and disappointment floods my chest but I try not to let it show. “I’ve got a client who’s just been arrested for murder.”

A big deal. Dammit.

“You have to go in?” I say, my voice showing my disappointment.

“Sorry, baby, I do. It’s what I get paid for.”

And me? What about me?

I push that thought out of my mind the second it enters. It’s his job. I nod, staring at my feet.

“You want me to call a friend to go with you to the game?”

I shrug. “I don’t think any of them would be interested.”

Besides, I don’t really have any good friends that would come with me. I spend all my time working and with Gerard.

His face falls and he looks absolutely devastated, and I know it’s upsetting him. “I don’t want you to miss out, I know how excited you are.”

I still really want to go, that’s true. “I can go,” I suggest. “I mean, it’s not as if I’m exerting myself.”

He frowns. “It’s a big crowd; you could be pushed around.”

“I’ll be okay,” I assure him. “I really want to go.”

He studies me, then sighs. “I’ll make it for dinner, I promise. Why don’t you ask my sister? She might be able to come?”

I snort. “Heather hates me; that’ll never work.”

“She doesn’t hate you . . .”

“She so does.” I smile, reaching out and touching his arm. “I’ll be okay. I really want to go. I’d be so much happier if you were there, but I understand you can’t be.”

“I’ll make it for dinner—nothing will keep me from that.”

I nod, tucking myself into his arms. He holds me for a long, long moment.

“All right.” He sighs, stepping back. “No time like the present. Call me if you run into any problems, okay?”

I nod.

“I love you, Lucy.”

“And I love you.”

Little did I know that was the last time he’d ever speak those words again.





CHAPTER 2


Excited anticipation rushes through me as I pass through security, opening my purse for the officers to quickly examine. They check my ticket and I’m given directions to my seat. The stadium is a good size, nothing like the big leagues, but I don’t care. The excitement about seeing a game in the flesh is almost more than I can handle.

I bounce happily as I find my seat right up the back near a big brick building that’s positioned in the middle. It doesn’t block my view, so I don’t care. Besides, I think there’s a toilet in there, which no doubt I’ll need later.

People move into their seats and music pours out from the speakers set up in the grandstands. Happy chatter fills my ears and I squirm on my chair, thrilled that I’m about to see a game up close and personal. A man comes down the aisle and stops at the seat to my left. The one to my right is reserved for Gerard so it’s going to remain empty. I look up at him and my eyes widen. My breath is taken away, seizing in my chest and refusing to move as I take in the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

He looks down at me with eyes that are the lightest kind of silver. Set amongst light olive skin, they seem to shine. Dark hair falls over a masculine forehead that travels down into a chiseled jaw complemented with full lips. He’s a big man, easily more than six-foot tall, with muscles that ripple out of his tight black tee. He’s wearing a pair of faded denim jeans and heavy black boots. I wonder if he has tattoos under that shirt? He seems like the tattoo type.

When I realize I’m staring, I look away quickly, focusing back on the field. I’ve never noticed a man outside my marriage; I’ve certainly never stared. This one is just so incredibly breathtaking. My cheeks flush with shame.

He takes his seat beside me, saying nothing, just waving his hand to the young man holding a cart of beer. The drink vendor hands him one, and I keep my eyes on the field, suddenly aware of myself. Am I trembling? Can he tell his presence makes me nervous? Am I sitting too stiffly? I adjust my shirt without thought, and the second I realize what I’m doing, I snap my hands down to my lap.

I sit, staring at the field until the game begins. Thank god. Now, my attention is focused on the young men playing. My heart pounds with excitement as the loud ping of the baseball being hit fills the air. The crowd cheers, and a huge smile spreads across my face. Exhilarating.

The man beside me doesn’t move much—nor does he pay a great deal of attention to the game. His eyes scan the crowd, and he seems to be looking for something, or someone. He is sitting deep into his chair, as if he’s trying to remain inconspicuous. Weird.

The team I’m rooting for lands a home run and I launch into the air, clapping loudly. I jump a few times on the spot and then quickly sit down as realization about what I’m doing hits. I flick my glance to the man to my left and he’s watching me, expressionless. Great. He’s probably embarrassed to sit by me. Not that he can talk. He doesn’t even look as if he’s enjoying himself. I lean forward, gripping the chair in front of me and watching intently.