12. Tommy

"Don't forget that McDaniels probably has a scout on you." My dad had yet to go five minutes over dinner without mentioning yet another thing that I already knew about the game tomorrow.

Dinner had been going relatively smoothly. Maggie and my mom seemed to be getting along really well. My mom asked Maggie about her family, and Maggie asked my mom for stories about me when I was younger. I groaned when my mom decided to tell her about the time I was learning to slide at a baseball camp when I was a kid. We were indoors, and they had us sliding into mats that were a couple of inches off the ground. My mom's face lit up as she recalled my very first attempt at sliding. My foot caught on the lip of the mat, sending me flying face-first into the pile of mats in front of me. I remember feeling so embarrassed as I looked up to see the college players trying to hold back their smiles. I could laugh about it now, but at the time, I refused to go back to any camps at that college. I had been thoroughly mortified.

Maggie laughed at the image of me as a little kid, gangly and uncoordinated. I watched as she threw her head back, letting out a throaty laugh that made a bubble of heat grow in the bottom of my stomach. I couldn't take my eyes off her all dinner. It excited me how easily she fit in with my family. However, my time admiring the amazing girl across from me was tainted by a short comment my dad felt like he needed to make. Every one of them revolved around baseball. He hadn't even bothered to ask me about how I liked Chicago. Or even if I had made any friends with my teammates. Every comment was centered around me and the game. It took everything in me to stay civil at the dinner table. I knew I needed to—not only for my mom's sake, but for Maggie's. I didn't want her to see how ugly my relationship with my dad really was.

"Thanks, Dad," I told him after finishing off the rest of my water. My dad was nursing a beer and a small part of me ached to grab one from the fridge and down it, but I had promised myself I would do better. That included taking a break from alcohol. So I was out of luck and liquid courage for this conversation.

"Have you gone over the spray charts I emailed you last week on their lineup? Those will help you with positioning on the field." Anger began to boil inside me. I could feel both my mom's and Maggie's eyes on me as they waited for me to respond.

"How do you like your new place?" my mom cut in. I could drop to my knees in thankfulness for having her as my mom. She knew exactly when to switch the conversation before a nuclear explosion went off.

"I love it," I told her. "I'm in Lincoln Park. It's perfect. I love seeing all of the families on walks or people out jogging. It feels like somewhere I can grow into later. Maybe even start a family there."

Maggie coughed, her hand flying up to her mouth. I raised an eyebrow at her in concern. She waved me off, trying to tell me that she was fine. If I knew any better, I would have guessed that I had caught her by surprise with that comment.

"I can't wait to see it." My mom reached across the table and squeezed my hand. "I am so proud of you. You've been doing so well."

"If he'd been doing well, he wouldn't be in Chicago right now," my dad grumbled from his seat.

"Scott," my mom hissed at him. My dad chugged the rest of his beer in response.

"Maggie, why don't you help me clean up dinner?" My mom reached over and squeezed Maggie's hand before standing up from the table. Maggie's eyes remained glued to mine, concern etched across her face. It killed me that she had to see this part of my life. I didn't want her to see the remnants of chaos my past life had caused. I had hoped my dad could get through one dinner without opening his mouth, but I guess that was too much to ask. I wanted Maggie to see the man I was trying to become, not the mistakes the former version of myself had made.

I had no idea why I had wanted her to come tonight. My mind had tried to convince me that it would be a great way to practice our relationship for when we were in public, but I knew that was a lie. I wanted to see her here, with my family, and imagine what it would be like if all of this was real.

Maggie left with my mom, leaving me alone with my dad. I was beginning to wish that my mom had asked me to help her clean instead.

"Do you really think it's smart getting in a relationship right now? You've never had much luck before with picking them," my dad asked, wasting no time hounding me with questions again.

This one made my blood boil.

Who did he think he was, judging Maggie? She should never have been dragged into any of the mess I had made. But instead, she willingly signed a contract that she never should have been involved with in the first place. Of course her contract benefited her, but part of me constantly worried that the permanent effects this would have on her life would never be worth the money she was being paid.

"Maggie is not like any other girl I've ever dated." Having my dad lump Maggie in with the models I had dated previously set something off in me. I leveled a stare at him that would melt diamonds. "If you don't have anything nice to say about her, don't say anything at all."

"Someone has to have some common sense for you." My dad didn't even seem deterred by my threat.

"I am an adult. I can handle my own life."

"Are you sure? Because it doesn't seem like you've done a tip-top job of that so far."

My fists clenched under the table, and without a second thought, I pushed my chair back and began to storm away from the deck.

"That's right. Back down from the fight, just like you always have." My dad's words rang in my ears all the way to the shed, where I grabbed a golf club and a bucket of balls that he always kept stored there.

Part of me couldn't help but think his accusation wasn't far from the truth. I had wondered if letting Maggie agree to this whole charade in the first place was the easy way out instead of letting the inevitable happen. But I refused to let my dad win. I would prove to him that I was still capable of being the son he could be proud of.