62. Laying it All on the Table

SIXTY-TWO

Iwoke up a few times in the middle of the night to Del typing on her laptop. She was so zoned in that she didn"t notice I wasn't asleep. She was adorable with her curls up in a bun and glasses low on her nose. I watched her for a while until I eventually drifted off again.

When my alarm went off, the bed beside me was empty and cold. Did the woman ever sleep? I walked out to the balcony over the living room to see Delilah dancing around the kitchen with Lily. Both girls were still in their pajamas. Lily was in her pink, flowered onesie and Del was in my shirt. Del was flipping pancakes and singing to our daughter. I hurried to get dressed because I wanted to be part of that too.

When my bags were packed, and I looked less like a zombie, I rolled my luggage next to the front door.

"Good morning ladies," I greeted above the music. I kissed the top of Del's head as she stood over the sink washing out the mixing bowl. Colbie Caillat's "Bubbly" played softly through the overhead speakers.

Del turned around with a small smile and I laughed at the wild state of her hair. She slept like a maniac and looked like a loon in the morning.

"Don't even, James." She angled Lily so I was in view. "Say good morning, Daddy!"

Lily babbled something incoherent, but the smile on her face when she saw me lit up my whole fucking world.

"There's my little princess." I took her out of Del's arms and spun around. "How are we this beautiful morning?"

"Pretending we aren't sad you're leaving." Del said, gesturing to the speakers. "Hence the happy music."

I clicked Lily into her highchair and secured the tray before Del placed pancake pieces in front of her.

"You could be a little sad." I pulled Del to me by her waist. Her back curved so she could see my face. "I wouldn't think you're any less of a boss bitch."

"Okay…" She dragged the word out to make it sound whiny. "Maybe I'm the tiniest bit sad that I can't put my cold feet on you to warm them up."

I laughed and tucked her head into my chest. "I'm going to miss you too, Peach."

When we were finished with breakfast and I'd soaked in as many Lily snuggles as possible, my girls walked me to the door.

"Give Daddy kisses," Del encouraged, but Lily looked at her blankly. "Oh, yeah," she bonked herself in the head. "I forget she doesn't really understand me. Let me demonstrate."

She made obnoxious kissing noises while planting her lips on my cheeks and lips and nose over and over, then watched Lily expectantly. It took a second, but she started giggling. Del did it again and again until Lily was softly batting her face to get her out of the way so she could slobber on my face.

I was lucky to have a good family, one that I knew loved me and would support me through anything. But I'd never experienced this kind of pure, unfiltered love before. It was probably linked to me feeding, bathing, and changing her diaper, but Lily loved me. I had that in my life because of Del. It was something special I'd always be grateful for.

"Hold on," I said. "Stay just like that. I need a new screensaver for the trip." I snapped a few photos, then slipped my phone back in my pocket.

Del put Lily down in the lounger. "Oh, and I almost forgot. Well," she sighed. "Not really, but I'm nervous so let's just pretend. I have this ready for you." She pulled a stack of papers out of the pantry and my eyes widened. Holy shit that was thick. I reached my hands out, but she held the manuscript to her chest.

"Can you have it read by seven tonight? Our time."

I eyed the huge mass of printed paper. It was intimidating in length, but also in the content. I had no idea what to expect.

"Uh, yeah. No problem."

"I need you to approve it for my meeting with my publisher at eight. It needs to be edited and everything, but this is the first draft." At the top of the stack was a sticky note. She tapped it. "Please send any and all feedback to this email, as I will probably cry if you hate it and text it to me."

"I'm not going to hate it."

"Either way."

"And you don't need my permission. I trust your judgment. You should write the story that's in your head."

She gave me a shy smile. "I did. It's been in my head for years." Her expression was soft and open for a moment, then it tightened slightly and she extended her hand for me to shake. "Pleasure doing business with ya."

I took her hand, only to yank her to me. "I'm trying to be more than your business partner, Peach." I set the book down on my suitcase and pulled her up by the backs of her thighs. Her legs instinctively wrapped around my waist. She didn't hesitate to return my kiss, twining her fingers in my hair. I'd never tire of the feeling that she was finally mine.

Our chests rose up and down when she pulled back.

"If you still feel that way after you read this, then I'm ready for anything you want."

"You saying you wanna be my wife, Del?" I pushed a curl behind her ear.

She blushed and looked away. "One step at a time, James." She untangled her limbs from around me and I lowered her to standing.

"We skip steps, baby. That's what we're good at."

She laughed and shook her head as if she wasn't as impulsive as me. "You can leave that copy with the Tempests. See if it aligns with their hoity toity morals."

"I love you, little rebel."

"I love you, superstar."

I showed up early at the airport because that's what you were supposed to do. I couldn't stand it when people didn't prepare well enough. The thing with that, though, was that I had my own plane this time and the plane wasn't even ready yet.

I settled into the private lounge and started reading. I flipped the title page over and my heart sank to my stomach when I read the dedication.

Parker,

Here's every word I never said. I spent a lot of time lying to myself about how I felt and even longer holding it back when I should've told you. You amaze me every day, and you're the only person who's ever felt like home.

I love you. Loudly and in front of the whole world. Here's your proof.

Delilah ??

It was her only book published under her real name and while it wasn't a secret anymore, the underlying meaning was there. When she was writing those other books, she was Aurora. She was publishing this one as herself.

There was no one else in the lounge so I sat back, put my feet up, and got lost in her words.

An hour later, I was startled when a flight attendant called my name. "Mr. James, your plane is ready."

I'd ended up on the floor with the pages laid out all around me. Notes penned in blue ink covered the margins. Some for editing, some just for Delilah's eyes only.

"I can help you." The attendant bent to pick up a piece of paper, but I stopped her before she could read anything.

"Sorry, it's okay. I'd like to do it myself. I'll be right there."

"Okay." She eyed me strangely. "Gate 13, when you're ready."

I smiled and waited for her to walk away before frantically reorganizing the chapters and tucking them into my backpack.

I was excited for some peace and quiet on the plane and a table to lay out the pages. I wasn't expecting to find Chelsea waiting for me with her laptop open and an expectant smile on her face.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, rolling my eyes. "Did you search the whole cabin so you can tell me where things are and convince me that your sister is a pilot?"

She laughed at my expense. "You fell for that way too easily. I just like to snoop. I'm actually here to discuss a couple things with you. Charlotte and I reviewed the contract you have with Kerrie and we may have found a loophole. I need you to approve our strategy and we'll have it taken care of."

I was torn between wanting to spend the whole flight reading and also wanting everyone to know that Delilah was the only woman on my mind. That there was never anything real with Kerrie. I hated not being able to tell the truth. The opinions of the public didn't matter much to me, other than them thinking I was cheating on Del or Kerrie.

"Okay, hit me with it."

Chelsea explained her plan. I thanked her and sent a bonus on top of her usual fee. She was a genius.

"So, how are you liking it so far?" She sent a pointed look to my reading material.

"How do you know what I'm reading?"

"Because I've been reading it as Del writes it?" Chelsea looked at me like I was an idiot. "Duh. She sends everything to me first, and I make sure it makes sense. I have to say, this may be her best work yet. She sent me the manuscript and I stayed up all night reading it. I just finished on the flight here."

"You take your job very seriously."

"Of course I do." She nudged my shoulder. "And your girl is an amazing writer. Best part of the job, honestly."

"Is that a normal thing? For PR managers to get to read it that early?"

Chelsea snorted. "Fuck no, Del just likes me and trusts me to be honest."

I hadn't realized how close Del and Chelsea were, but I guess it wouldn't have made sense for her to tell me with the secret she'd been keeping.

"She must have been inspired," I replied nonchalantly.

"Ah, so you are an asshole like the rest of them."

"Them?" I didn't know who she was referring to.

She flipped through her folders absentmindedly. "Athletes."

"If you don't like them, why do you manage them?"

"Oh, Del didn't tell you? I followed in my dad's footsteps and I like to compete with him. He has mostly athletes, and while I only have a few…" She looked me over. "They're collectively more high profile than his."

Chelsea started working on her laptop and our conversation fell to the side. "Mind if I…" I hooked a thumb to the table at the other end of the plane. I wanted to continue reading without an audience.

"Go for it."

Landing in Seattle, I felt like a different man than the one who'd lived here alone a few months ago.

I wanted to say I had a plan walking into the owner's office, but I was running on pure emotion. My resolve was final and I knew what I wanted. It wasn't to be here alone again. That invisible tug I felt when I was away from Del intensified with the distance between us. Knowing my girls were home without me felt like a crater in my stomach.

The sound of my knuckles cracking reverberated in the empty hall while I waited for the owner to be available to see me. I sat across from a glass trophy case I so desperately wanted to add to. Baseball had been everything to me. It was what I knew, but it wasn't the center of my world anymore. I never wanted to stop playing, but I was resolved to end my career if that's what it took.

"Mr. Lewis will see you now." The receptionist waved me toward the imposing oak doors.

I took a deep breath in, looked at the screensaver with my two favorite people in the world, and stood. When I left here I'd either be leaving with a plan for the season or heading to a meeting with my agent to ask for a trade.

When I entered the room, Shawn Lewis sat behind a matching oak desk. He was bald on top with graying hair on each side. He set his pen down and removed his bifocals to get a better look. How could a man so small hold so much power? He looked almost breakable with the way he braced his hand on the arms of the chair to stand and shake my hand.

"Parker James, our star is back in town."

I returned his strong grip. "Mr. Lewis, I didn't get the impression you thought very highly of me, since you're pushing to end my contract." I wasn't beating around the bush. I was a number to this man. I won games and made him money. He could blow up my whole career in a matter of seconds.

He chuckled a fake laugh. "Close the door, son. We have a lot to discuss."

I did as he said and sat across from him, but I didn't drop my glare.

"The GM said you wanted to talk to me about this mess we're in. I'm fully healed and I won't be fucking around with getting hurt again. I have my priorities straight, and now you're trying to have me not come back because of a romance book that may or may not be about me? Seems like a crock of shit if you ask me."

"Alright, straight to business then." He sat up straighter and leaned his forearms on the desk in front of him. "She is your girlfriend, is she not? And an author writing about a baseball pitcher. I have heard from multiple people that the stories are somewhat lewd."

"They're books for adults. I'm not sure what that has to do with anything."

He cracked a smile, as if impressed with my statement. "Neither am I, honestly. We were contacted by your old agent and advised to look into it. It seems that there's been some collusion between Jerry and a sports writer. She took our statement out of context and ran it anyway without approval. Rebecca Johnson was her name and she had a few choice words to say when we contacted her about amending her article. The revised piece should be hitting their website anytime now."

I rubbed my hand over my face. Not this again. "I have been having issues with Jerry. We're looking into it legally. I have a personal history with that reporter."

"I would also advise you to warn Delilah about a certain person at her publishing house." He squinted at the paper on his desk. "Do you know of a Dean Christoph?"

I squeezed my eyes shut in frustration. "Unfortunately."

"We found he was in constant communication with Jerry."

The betrayal apparently went far deeper than I anticipated. "Noted. Thank you for the information."

Mr. Lewis nodded. "Now onto the matter of your employment. I think you're a great pitcher. I admire how quickly you've shaped up your image. I do wish you were more receptive to younger players looking for guidance."

"That's what this is about? Jesse? He definitely doesn't want guidance from me."

"He doesn't think he needs it, but he does. Throwing the way he is will burn him out before he has a chance to see the success you've had."

"So what? You want me to groom him to take over for me? He's not even that much younger. I have no plans of retiring this early."

"You're a bit of a hothead, huh?" He sighed heavily. "I don't want Jesse to take your spot. I want you to work with him on his temperament on the field."

"No offense sir, but he's my competition. I'm all for being a team, but that guy wants to take my spot. Why should I help him?"

"Because you want to stay on my team and in Seattle. A little healthy competition is good for your game. My grandson is a good pitcher. He could play wherever he wants, but selfishly I want him here."

"Grandson?" What the fuck.

The team's owner scratched his jaw. "He doesn't know, and I'd like to keep it that way."

This wasn't making sense and I didn't know what the fuck it had to do with me. "He doesn't know you're the owner? Isn't that against some kind of rule?"

"He doesn't know I'm his grandfather. His mother and I made a deal. My son messed up his chance to be in his life, and we all suffered because of it. I didn't even know who Jesse was until he was getting recruited. He got his dad's talent, and I want to see to it that he doesn't make the same mistakes with the vices this life offers."

"Well, personally, I think he's a tool."

"He's brand new to this environment. You weren't your best self when you first got to Seattle either."

I hated that the words he was saying made sense.

"I didn't sleep with multiple women after the first home game I played. He boasted about it like a caveman after a hunt."

"Sounds like he needs a mentor." His smile was sarcastic.

"If I agree to this, you'll reinstate my contract."

"Right now."

"Fine. I want it in writing that you won't pull this bullshit with Delilah's books ever again."

He extended his hand once again. "Deal. She can write as much smut as she wants. You won't hear a peep from us. I'll have the paperwork drawn up today."

"Great. Have it sent to our lawyer."