Her fears. Her worries. Her pain.
No, better to be positive. Better to focus on the good, and the healthy, and the happy. It was her job to keep them together, as a couple, and as a family. If she lost confidence in him—in them—they’d never make it. Never. “I just wish . . . I just wish . . . I could see you.”
He didn’t answer.
She continued: “I want to see you when we get there. I want you to pick us up from the airport. I want you to be . . .” there, she silently added.
For me.
“Time will pass quickly,” he added firmly, adopting the authoritative tone he’d take with whining kids. “And you’ve got a lot to do when you get to California. You’ve got to find us a place, and get us settled, and then all the bad stuff will be over, behind us.”
She said nothing, resenting that she had to find a place, and she had to get them settled, and then, and only then, would the bad stuff be over.
Personally, she’d rather go out and play ball. And sign autographs. And head out to have drinks in some hot nightclub with the guys.
“Right,” she said grimly.
“There’s light at the end of the tunnel. I’ll be home with you for Father’s Day. I’ll be off the next day. We’ll be able to hang out and relax—see your family, and your dad.”
Great. She couldn’t wait for that off day. “And when is that?” she asked, checking her sarcasm.
“The eighteenth, I think.”
The eighteenth. Sarah balled her hands into fists. Just two weeks from now. No problem. She’d wait.
But then, she really didn’t have a choice, did she?
Fifteen
Wednesday, June 6, was another spectacular morning in Alameda, and business was good at the café, so good that customers were on a twenty-minute wait list for a table.
Lauren liked a busy morning. It was how it was supposed to be. Only problem was, she, and the other waitstaff, were all moving so fast it was hard to say more than two words to their regulars.
Boone hadn’t been in yet, though, and it was getting late enough that Lauren didn’t think he’d show. Which wouldn’t be a bad thing either.
She lined up her order beneath the warmer, making sure everything was there even as she tried to convince herself that she didn’t need to see Boone.
He didn’t matter.
He couldn’t.
“First Spartacus, and now Thor,” Bette said, whistling under her breath as she joined Lauren in front of the grill. “Things are getting exciting at Mama’s Café.”
“What?” Lauren asked, adjusting the fruit garnish on one plate before letting Bob know she needed another short stack of blueberry pancakes.
“Coming,” he answered.
“Thor’s here,” Bette repeated, still waiting on an order herself.
Lauren frowned, her brows tugging together. “Who? Where?”
Bette nodded at the counter. “There, at the counter. Thor. See him? He asked to be seated in your section. And if that ain’t Thor, I don’t know who he is.”
“Thor,” Lauren repeated dumbly, glancing over her shoulder, her gaze sweeping the expanse of dark gold counter.
Then her eyes widened. She’d spotted him.
Immense shoulders. Huge biceps. Thick blond hair caught in a ponytail, a strong tan jaw, high cheekbones beneath blue eyes.
She immediately understood the reference.
She also had a sneaking suspicion she knew who he was. She hoped she was wrong.
“Humph,” she said.
“Humph,” Bette echoed, mocking her. “Don’t act like your eyes didn’t bug out just now. ’Cause they sure did.”
Ignoring the waitress, Lauren stacked the warm plates on her arm, delivered the order to her table, returned for additional butter and syrup, delivered that, then headed to the counter, where someone had already taken care of getting her big, brawny, blond customer a menu, coffee, and water.
“Good morning,” she said, pulling out her notepad. “What can I get for you?”
“What do you recommend?”
She glanced up and her gaze collided with his. He had piercing blue eyes. Blue, blue eyes. She looked swiftly away. “Everything’s good. Just depends on what you’re in the mood for.”
“I’m hungry. Want serious food.”
He had a very deep voice, which matched his deep chest, and his arms. And suddenly she flashed to Monday night’s game, remembering that he batted before Boone. She recalled how he’d hit a double just before Boone’s first home run, which had put all the fans on their feet. She’d been one of them. “I’d recommend our steak and eggs, then,” she said, fixing her gaze on his strong chin. “I’m also partial to our corned beef hash. It’s homemade and you can get two or three eggs with that, prepared any way you’d like them, and a side of toast, biscuits, or a short stack of pancakes.”