The Game Changer (The Perfect Game #2)

The Game Changer (The Perfect Game #2) Page 4

I was sure she understood this, knowing me as well as she did, but it still needed to be said. The mere thought of not having baseball or my Kitten gutted me inside and left me hollow.

“I get that.” Her eyes softened with understanding before narrowing devilishly. “Now get to the stalking.”

Slowly I spooned a large heaping of cereal into my mouth before saying another word. My pace of storytelling was torturing her and I knew it. I liked having the upper hand in a situation where I really had no hand at all. I was lucky she didn’t slam the door in my face last night. Normally not one for second chances, this girl broke all her rules for me. I’d give her anything she fucking wanted. I’d answer every question twice if she needed me too.

“You’re stalling,” she said, rising from her chair to grab the toast.

My compromise ended the moment we lost the last home game and our postseason finished. I had two weeks to pack up my temporary apartment in Arizona and move out. I didn’t have very many things there since most of my stuff still sat unattended at the house in Alabama. The house I’d shared with that bitch Chrystle. I knew I’d have to head back there to pack it all up before my life could move forward again, but I dreaded the very thought. If I could help it, I’d never step foot in that fucking state again. Thank God Alabama doesn’t have a major league baseball team.

Grabbing a bottle of water, I walked into the living room and fell onto the couch. I reached for my cell, searching for my lawyer’s name in my contacts. I selected his number, pressed Call, and relaxed into the cushions, pushing my head into the pillows.

“Hey, Jack, what’s up?” Marc’s voice rang out loudly, cutting through the noise in the background.

“Do you have a minute? I need to talk to you.”

“Of course. Hold on a sec.” With the slamming of a door, the previous distractions were silenced. “OK, I’m here. What’s going on? Are you OK?”

I nodded, forgetting for a minute that he couldn’t see me through the phone. “Yeah. I just want to talk to you about what I need to do to end the marriage.”

“Right,” Marc responded quickly, and then I heard him typing. “OK. So, obviously your two options are a divorce or an annulment.”

I realized my jaw was clenched, and I tried to relax it. The fact that I was even having this conversation pissed me off. “An annulment means the marriage never happened, right?”

“Yes, but you can only file for one under certain circumstances.” He continued typing.

“Chrystle lied about being pregnant,” I said, longing to make this bullshit marriage disappear completely. I hated waiting this long to deal with everything, but I couldn’t take the necessary steps during baseball season. If I needed to be in court to testify or make a statement, I wouldn’t be available while we were in play-offs. My personal life outside of my baseball had to wait.

“I know.” The rapid tapping continued as I waited. “OK, here’s the deal. We’ll file the dissolution of marriage under the fraud category, and the burden of proof is on us, if necessary. I’ll file the paperwork first thing tomorrow morning. It should be a no-brainer.”

I sucked in a deep breath. “Awesome. Thank you, Marc.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So, is there anything else I have to do? How long does it take?”

“You don’t need to do anything yet. I’ll find out if you have to make a legal statement in front of a judge or not. As soon as Chrystle signs it, we submit the paperwork, and it should only take a few weeks to finalize.”

“Shit. Seriously? Only a few weeks?” My mouth dropped open before transforming into a huge grin.

“Yeah. It’s just a process, but it’s not a long one. I’ll be in touch.”

“Alright. Thanks again, Marc. Talk to you later.” I pressed End before tossing my phone onto the coffee table and reaching for my laptop.

Only a few weeks. Fuck, yes!

I opened my Internet browser and typed a name in the online search engine: “Cassie Andrews.”

When a ridiculous amount of options appeared, I narrowed down my search: “Cassie Andrews photographer.”

Her name came up first with a link to her new position in New York. I clicked it and found myself on a page filled with her contact information. I scrambled for a pen and something to write on, as if I didn’t get it down on paper immediately, it would disappear forever and I’d never get it back. I jotted down her work number, followed by her work e-mail address just in case.

Just in case what?

You cannot call her until you have your shit together. Until Chrystle is out of your life for good. No calling or e-mailing Cassie until you’re rid of all your baggage.

I glanced at the clock on my DVD player. Eight p.m. That made it eleven in New York.

I thought we just covered this?

Desperation coursed through me at the very idea of hearing how she sounded. I suddenly needed to hear Cassie’s voice. Convinced there was no way she’d still be in the office, I dialed her work number, my heart thundering in my chest with each ring.

“You’ve reached the desk of Cassie Andrews, junior photographer.”

My abs contracted as the sound of her voice coursed into my ear.

“I’m sorry I missed your call, but please leave me a detailed message and I’ll return it as soon as possible. If this is urgent, please press zero to return to reception. Thank you.”

A beep played, and I quickly pressed the End button on my cell, my breathing ragged. She sounded happy… cheerful, even. My heart pinched with pain at the realization that she could be just fine without me. I longed for her happiness, but in all honesty, I wanted to be a part of it. She had become a permanent fixture within me. I struggled to remember what it felt like before she burrowed herself into my soul. I couldn’t remember existing without her. Every part of me had become tied to her. It was in that very moment I realized how fucking desperate I was for her to feel the same way about me, and how I honestly had no idea if she still did.

“You called my work phone and hung up? I love it.” She leaned her head against my shoulder before pressing her soft lips against my cheek.

“I did that a lot.”

“How much is a lot?”

“Almost every night,” I admitted, reaching my hand through the open space in the chair and resting it on the small of her back. I hoped she’d think my actions were cute instead of creepy.

“You called my work voice mail almost every night, but you never called the real me?”

Shit.

“Not while I was still…” I paused, not wanting to say the word “married.” I shuddered.

“You’re so stubborn sometimes,” she chastised.

“I know. But I swear my heart’s in the right place.” As if I hadn’t asked her to understand enough already, I longed for her to understand this part as well.

“Your heart and I are going to have a chat later. Get on the same page.”

“I look forward to it.” I raised my eyebrows, and she swatted my shoulder.

“So, once your season was over, did you move back home with Gran and Gramps in California? I think I remember Melissa telling me that you were back there.”

I pushed my chair back from the table, grabbed both of our bowls, and placed them in the sink. I’d wash them later. And for the record, I do not do dishes. But for Cassie I’d do the whole city’s dishes if she asked. “Yeah. I flew back to stay with Gran and Gramps right after the season ended. I really missed them.”

“I bet they missed you too.” Her green eyes twinkled with her words. I love how they do that sometimes when she’s excited or reminiscing.

“It was nice being home, you know? Surrounded by people who actually give a shit about you and your future.”

I wiped my hands on a dish towel before leading her toward the living-room couch. I pulled her head onto my chest and sighed as she wrapped her arm around me, her fingers gripping my skin.

“Is it weird that I miss your grandparents more than I miss my own parents?” She giggled against my chest.

“Nah, your parents sorta suck.”

“So do yours,” she shot back defensively, her body tensing.

“No shit.”

“Well, aren’t we a pair?” She relaxed her shoulders and my nerves eased.

“I think so.” I kissed the top of her head, breathing in her shampoo. She always smelled so damn good.

“Were Gran and Gramps freaking out about everything?”

My stomach tightened at the memories currently flooding my mind. “They were really sad, mostly. I think Gran took it the hardest. It hurt her knowing something was happening to me that she couldn’t fix or make better.”

Cassie’s head nodded into my chest. “Poor Gran.”

“Yeah. It sucked. I felt fucking horrible. I still do.” My breath hitched.

She arched her neck, pulling back her head to look at me as cold air filled the now empty space on my chest. “Don’t do that to yourself, Jack. It’s over now.” Her mouth formed into a smile, and I tried to smile back but failed.

“Do they know you’re here? With me?” she asked, her voice trembling. What the hell would Cassie have to be nervous about when it comes to my grandparents? They adore her. She had to know that.

“They know. They’re over-fucking-joyed about it.”

“Really? Were they scared at all that I wouldn’t take you back?” Her eyes focused on mine with intent.

I grinned. “Not really.”

Her jaw dropped slightly. “What do you mean, not really?”

“Gran said she knew real love when she saw it. She was convinced that you’d forgive me. That it might not be easy, but eventually you’d come around.”

Cassie’s lips formed a closed-mouth smirk. “Gran’s smart.”

My fingers twisted through long blonde strands of her hair as my mind drifted for a moment, convinced this was only a dream. I’d waited to be right here, holding this girl in my arms, for so long now I almost couldn’t believe it was really happening.

“Back to the story.” Her words cut through my thoughts.

“I’ve missed you!” Gran squeezed me before looking me up and down. “You look healthy, so that’s good.” The smile expanded across her whole face until her eyes were scrunched into half moons.

“I missed you too, Gran.” I leaned down to plant a kiss on her well-aged cheek.

“You look bigger,” Gramps said with a nod of approval, and I laughed, hugging him tight.

“I’ve been working out. I have to at this level.”

“You always worked out,” Dean said as he walked out of his bedroom and into the living room. Since I left home to play ball, I don’t think Dean ever planned to move out. I couldn’t blame him really. Gran and Gramps were the best.

I reached for him and pulled him into a tight bear hug before he choked out an unrecognizable sound.

I laughed. “Not like this. Not to this level, this many days or hours. It’s literally a whole new ballgame being in the majors.”