The Game Changer(20)

“Sorry, Gran.” I pressed my lips together as Gramps laughed at my discomfort.

“Don’t encourage him.” Gran tossed an evil look in Gramps’s direction, and he quickly choked back another chuckle.

“Of course I’ll go,” Dean said, ignoring everyone else. “When?”

“After Christmas, we’ll head back. I want to get out of that state as soon as possible,” I said, my voice filled with disgust.

Gran reached out and squeezed my arm. “Did she sign the papers yet, dear?”

I averted my eyes and shook my head. “She’s still fighting it. Says I can’t prove that there was fraud involved.”

“But she faked her pregnancy! She tricked you.” Gran’s voice rose as her cheeks reddened with indignation.

“I know, but she has records that confirm she was pregnant.” I sighed, shoveling a fork full of Gran’s delicious cooking into my mouth.

“How can she even do that?” Gramps looked up from his plate, his eyes heavy with worry, and guilt rushed through me at the thought of causing him or Gran any unpleasantness.

I swallowed before responding. “I have no idea. Maybe the doctor was an old family friend? Her family goes back generations in that town so they’re pretty well respected.”

Gran let out a disgusted grunt. “They don’t even know the meaning of the word!”

“So, wait.” Dean wiped at his mouth with a napkin before placing it back in his lap. “Are you saying that there’s nothing you can do to fight it?”

“I’m just saying that the burden of proof is on me. And how do I prove all that?”

“That’s one messed-up bi—” Dean stopped short as Gran jerked her head, glaring at him. “girl. I was gonna say, that’s one messed-up girl.”

I realized my teeth were clenched. “You’re telling me.”

“I’m worried, Jack. This is taking so long. The longer it takes, the more you have to lose,” Gran added.

I knew what her underlying concern was. Gran was worried about me and Cassie. I’ll admit I was worried too, but I’d be damned if I’d let that little bitch win. “I’ll fix it, Gran. Don’t worry. She’ll sign the papers.”

“Don’t do anything foolish now,” she warned.




“Jack, your pies will be up in a minute, OK?” Sal’s gravelly voice echoed throughout the small restaurant, shaking me free from my memories.

“Sounds good, Sal. Thanks.”

“What did Marc say about going to Alabama?”

“I didn’t tell him.”

She laughed, running her fingers through her hair, and I wanted to reach out and touch every fucking part of her. “Of course you didn’t.”

“Well, come on! He would have advised me not to go. I was still paying rent on a house I wasn’t living in. I needed to get my stuff before spring training started in February, and that was only a little more than a month away.”

“Were you freaking out?” Her forehead creased with worry, and I wanted so badly to take it all away, but remembering Cassie’s relationship deal-breaker rules, I refused to lie.

Rule number one: Don’t lie.

I closed my eyes before opening them again. “I was definitely freaking out. You see, Kitten, aside from all the bullshit going on… my stuff still being in Alabama… Chrystle not signing the annulment… it was always about you. All I cared about was getting back to you. And I am sorry that time slipped away from me so fast, but—”

“Don’t do that to yourself,” she interrupted. “I understand better now.”

I shoved my hand into my hair, tugging at the strands like I tended to do around her. “I know that I probably should have called you. But while it was all going on, I was so caught up in fixing everything. I was obsessed with every detail being in perfect order before I came here. There were no exceptions.”

“But you’re here now. And that’s all that matters.” Her gorgeous eyes glistened, and I knew I’d lose my shit right here in front of Sal if she cried. Her tears could absolutely fucking gut me.

“To go, right?” Sal shouted toward us, and I coughed my emotions in check.

I glanced at Cass, who nodded her agreement. “To go, Sal. Thanks,” I answered.

I pushed my chair back and walked toward the small counter. “Do you have a car, Jack?” Sal tilted his head in my direction, his eyes narrowed.

Initially confused by his odd question, I leaned back and thought for a moment. “No,” I said haltingly, wondering why a stranger was asking if I had a car.

“I only ask because my little cousin Matteo is a driver. You don’t want to take the train to the stadium every day, and forget trying to take a taxi. I’ll write down the number of his car company and you ask for him directly. He’ll take care of you.” Sal scribbled Matteo’s name and number on the back of a business card before shoving it toward me.