Chapter 37

Mackenzie

Brooks hasn't gottena hit in three games.

I'm pretending like I'm not freaking out about this, but the truth is, I am freaking out about this.

Sarah hands me a plate of loaded bacon cheese fries in Beck's penthouse Friday night while the pre-game talking heads debate what's wrong with Brooks's bat as he returns to the stadium he called home for so many years, but how nice it is that the Fireballs still took their home series with San Francisco early this week.

"But the sex is good, right?" Sarah says.

"The man is still a god, which is ridiculously impressive, but he can't hit a—oh my god. Oh my god." I drop a big ol' handful of cheesy bacon fries on the ground and dive for her left hand. "Oh my god."

I'm suddenly crying.

I'm laughing and crying and hugging my best friend in the entire universe while she does the same, because she's wearing the most gorgeous engagement ring I've ever seen, and it's so Sarah, and so perfect, and she's glowing.

She's glowing so bright I can feel it.

I pull back and wipe at my eyes, and even though part of my heart is still terrified that I broke Brooks, right now, I can't stop smiling. "When? How? Why didn't you call me? I want to know everything."

Beck walks in, takes one look at both of us, grins like he was appointed Best Man Ever To Exist In The Universe, and casually strolls to his kitchen like it's no big deal.

"This morning," she whispers quickly. "It was so sweet. And so Beck. And?—"

The elevator dings, and Coco Puff flips out.

Like, flips out barking so hard I can't hear his collar translating anything.

"And my parents flew in," she finishes as I lunge for the puppy, who's lunging for the entrance, where Sarah's parents are rushing in with their pet pig, who's also being rushed by Sarah's cat, whom Coco Puff usually gets along with very well, except, apparently, when there's a teacup pig in the house.

"Cupcake!" Sarah's mom shrieks.

"Back, foul beasts of hell," her dad growls while he leaps between the animals.

Beck shrugs, leans over and snags Coco Puff in one hand, the cat in the other, and nods to Sarah's parents. "'Sup?"

Sarah's mom bursts into tears.

Happy tears, I mean.

"It's about time," she sobs.

And then the rest of us burst into tears again.

Which is how my dads find us. All laughing and crying and hugging and making bigger and bigger plans around Sarah and Beck for how their wedding will be, while I know full well that by the end of the night, they'll be on a plane to some amazing location where they'll have a simple ceremony on a beach or in the mountains, and then they'll let Sarah's parents throw the reception to end all receptions later.

Beck's family shows up too—his sister, brother-in-law-slash-best-friend, his parents, and lots of his friends from the neighborhood where he grew up.

They're not my family, but they've adopted Sarah as one of their own, and by extension, I feel like I belong too.

"Oh, Mackenzie, your boyfriend's up to bat," Dad says.

And then I remember the moments I don't want to belong, because now, eighty million eyeballs are all on me.

Or, you know, twenty or thirty sets. It just feels like eighty million eyeballs waiting for me to explain that yes, I, Mackenzie Montana, the woman who couldn't talk to baseball players the last time most of these people saw me, is now dating a baseball player.

"I'll go to the bathroom!" Sarah cries. "Mom, keep Cupcake out of the fries. Beck—get the pumpkin spice candles!"

Beck's sister twists her head and frowns at the screen. "Wait. Isn't that the guy whose sister told us all?—"

Beck reaches around and muffles her mouth. "Nope. Not that guy. Nuh-uh. Couldn't be."

"Not him," someone else who was there when Parker and Knox spilled the beans at a cookout last fall agrees.

Agreement rolls through the room, and I hold my breath while I watch the screen.

Brooks is choking up on the bat too high, and his shoulders are too tight. There's also a deep frown marring his normal placid concentration.

He looks exactly the same way I would if the Fireballs moved across the country, and I accidentally got tickets to see the new version of them play while I was traveling to Chicago or New York for work or something.

"Breathe, Mac." Tripp's brother, Levi, pats my shoulder. "He's got this."

I nod. I even lunge for my phone and type out a quick text message, knowing that even though he won't see it until after the game, I need to put the positive vibes out into the universe.

But a You can do it! isn't enough, so I snap a picture of Coco Puff and send that too.

And three seconds later, Brooks makes contact with the ball.

It's a ground ball headed up the middle.

"Yes!" I pump my fist. "Run, baby, run run ru—dammit!"

How the hell did that second baseman both snag that ball and make that throw? I mean, Cooper could make that throw, but I dislike the other team doing it.

"He hit the ball, Mackenzie." Sarah jogs back into the living room. "If it was a slump, he wouldn't be able to connect at all."

"Preach, girl." Papa holds up a hand, and she high-fives him.

Right.

So all I have to do is text him before every at-bat, and send him a picture of Coco Puff, and life will be absolutely perfect.

"Mackenzie," Papa sighs.

"Leave her alone, Lou. If she wants to text him every time he's at bat, let her text him every time he's at bat. She's clearly good for his chi. Love never hurts anyone."

The screen flashes, and I gasp in recognition.

Brooks's whole family is there.

At least, I assume that's his parents and two other brothers sitting with Parker, Knox, Rhett, and Eloise.

They're all in Fireballs jerseys.

And I think I just fell in love with his family too.

"Sarah," I whisper.

She squeezes my hand. "What?"

"I'd rather have Brooks than see the Fireballs win a championship. Does that make me a bad fan?"

"No. It means you're putting the man before the baseball player, and that's the best thing you can do to support the people you love, and, by extension, the team. And you know that."

"But why would he love me?"

She clears her throat and points to the screen, where Parker's spilled a giant soda all over herself on national television.

I start giggling.

"Mackenzie Renee." Papa glares at me.

I suck my lips in, but I can't stop laughing. Sarah's snickering beside me too.

Beck shakes his head at my dads, both of whom are glaring at me now. "Dudes. Let the ladies bask in their solidarity however they need to. It's like me laughing when someone gets tasered. They've been there, you know? Cheesecake?"

I hug Sarah. "I'm so glad you two are getting married."

Her smile overtakes the entire city. "Me too. Now, let's go cheer on some Fireballs."