Chapter 14

GEMMA

It’s Friday, my last official day in the office I’ve called home for five years. I’m tying up as many loose ends as I can. I’ll still work remotely for Darian for the next few months. My job with Jackson’s company won’t start until I feel like I’m leaving things in the right hands at the firm. When Trey has road trips, I’ll come back to Philly and work here until everything is properly transitioned.

I’ve begun to box some of my belongings at my house. The move will have to be gradual. I couldn’t manage everything at the office and packing in just a few days. I’m planning on my house going up on the market next month. I’m truly taking a leap of faith, but I know in my heart that Trey is the one . He’s worth the upheaval to my life.

I look down at my phone when it buzzes with a text notification. It’s my Perverts group chat.

Ava: I’m sick of using the word folds. Can’t we just write pussy when we mean pussy? Why do we have to find all these different ways to write it ?

I let out a laugh. God, I love my author chat group.

Libby: You can’t use the word pussy 87 times in the same book. You have to switch it up. Vagina, genitals, private parts, vag, lady bits, muff… Need I go on?

Me: You know I’m partial to pink canoe.

JoJo: Anything is better than moistened folds.

Me: I throw the word moist into every single book just because people hate it. At least I amuse myself.

JoJo: Ugh. I know. It’s gross.

Me: If we were British, we could write fanny, but we can’t get away with that shit.

Ava: Ooh. Fanny. I like that.

Libby: I just used bajingo in a book. I was debating between that and fufu.

Ava: I’ll take your leftovers. Fufu for the win.

I smile as I place my phone on my desk. I love those clowns. They always bring a smile to my face. Every single day.

Darian suddenly runs into my office, completely out of breath. “Come to the conference room. Right now.”

I quickly follow her into our big conference room. I assume they’re having a goodbye party for me, but that’s not what I find. Everyone in the office is sitting, looking up at the big-screen television that hangs on the wall.

It’s tuned to ESPN. It appears to be some sort of news conference. There’s a stage and podium .

I look closely at the three men sitting near the podium until the one on the left comes into focus. “Is that Trey?”

Darian nods. “It is.”

The scroll bar underneath reads Bombers to announce blockbuster trade at five p.m. I glance down at my watch. It’s four fifty-nine.

What’s happening? Is it him? Where is he going?

Trey and the elderly Bombers’ owner, George Stein, move to stand at the podium. George brings the microphone toward him.

“Good evening, everyone. Thanks for being here. Trey DePaul joined this team eleven years ago, right out of high school. He made an immediate impact on this organization both on and off the field. In addition to being a true team leader, he’s among the most level-headed young men I’ve ever had the privilege to have play for me. When he came to me this week and requested a trade…”

He pauses as he becomes emotional and wipes his eyes with a tissue, but eventually continues.

“To say I was shocked is an understatement. When he explained his reasons, I had to respect them. They’re for him to share, but effective immediately, the Bombers have traded Trey DePaul to the Philly Cougars for Jim McMichael, Jeremy Horns, and multiple draft picks which will be released to the press shortly.”

He holds out his hand to Trey for him to shake, which he does.

“Son, we’ll miss you, and we wish you well.”

Trey nods as he stands and briefly hugs George. I see tears forming in his eyes as he adjusts the microphone up toward his mouth.

“Thank you, Mr. Stein.”

He swallows, clearly equally filled with emotion.

“I moved to New York as a kid at eighteen with one duffle bag and without any friends or family in the area. The people of this city embraced me as one of their own and made me feel at home. Mr. Stein treated me with nothing but kindness and respect. I love this city and the Bombers more than words can express, but there comes a time in a man’s life when he has to make difficult choices.”

He pauses, gathering himself. Tears begin streaming down my cheeks as my heart aches for him.

“Unfortunately, we live in a society where women are often asked—no, expected—to sacrifice their own needs for men. Women giving up careers and dreams has become the norm. Why is that?”

He wipes his eyes with a tissue. I wish I was there to hold his hand. To hold him. To tell him I love him for what he’s about to do.

“I want to be honest with you all. I’ve found myself in love with a woman who lives in Philadelphia. Born and bred there. She’s never considered living anywhere else. She has a career, family, friends, and a community she loves. I want to respect everything she’s worked for. As much as I’ve always seen myself as a Bomber for life, I understand that I have a job different from most. Partners of baseball players don’t have it easy. They’re left alone for days and weeks at a time. Is it fair of me to ask her to move to a strange city only for me to be on the road for more than four months of the year? I don’t think it is. After a great deal of self-reflection and thinking about my future and home, the answer was clear. She’s my home. She’s in Philly. I love the Bombers, I always will, but number eighteen is taking this show to Philly. Thank you, New York. You’ll always have a small piece of my heart, but my girl has the rest of it.”

He steps aside and some other man takes the podium. I think it’s Trey’s agent, but I’m not sure. I can’t hear anything over the pounding in my heart. It’s so loud it’s drowning out the whispers and chatter in the conference room.

All eyes in the room are on me as tears stream down my cheeks. I’m left speechless by what he just did.

I hear my name and turn toward the door. Grammy Jane is standing there with Val and CJ.

My eyebrows pinch together. “What are you all doing here?”

Trey emerges from behind them. “I invited them. ”

I breathe, “Trey.” I point to the television. “How…how are you—”

“We recorded it two hours ago. I wanted to be here when you found out.”

Emotions overcome me as I croak out, “You didn’t have to do this. I was planning to move. I was going to surprise you this weekend.”

He shakes his head. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I meant every word I said. I should be the one to move, not you.”

In tandem, we glide toward each other, and he takes me into his arms. Tears pour down both our cheeks.

I look toward my grandmother and two best friends who are all smiling like fools.

Trey answers my unspoken question. “I wanted them here for this.”

“For wh—"

Before I can get out the words, he drops down on one knee and opens a box with an exceedingly large diamond ring sitting inside.

“Gemma, you know full well that I caught an incurable case of insta-love the second I laid eyes on you.”

I smile at him continuing to refer to it like a disease.

“After spending time with you, I knew my instincts were right. You and I are meant to be. When I close my eyes and imagine my future, I not only see you in it. You are it. I want—no, I beg —you to spend your life with me. Let me love you every single day. Marry me.” He nods toward the television. “There are no more obstacles standing in our way. It can be you and me living here in Philly. Your home. Our home.”

I twist my lips. “Now I sort of feel compelled to say yes since you just changed the paths of two billion-dollar franchises for me.”

He smiles, knowing that I’m only joking with him.

I wipe the tears covering my face. “I can’t believe you did this for me. ”

“For us. I did it for us.” He gives me his adorable smile. “You once said that every good romantic comedy ends with a grand romantic gesture. I suppose this was mine.”

I shake my head and grab his face with my hands. “No, my love, this isn’t our ending. It’s our beginning.”

I hold out my left hand, and, with a huge grin, he places the ring on my finger. He then stands, lifts me into his arms, and kisses the hell out of me to a sea of cheers.