Go Away, Darling - Alexis Anne Page 0,77
Erik in particular.”
“What does that even mean?” I set the laptop down and made sure the blanket on the couch properly covered my very bare legs.
Jack and Erik looked so much alike. It was a little disconcerting, actually. Their eyes were slightly different shades of brown and Jack kept a beard, but they had the same coloring, same build, same face shape. Even their voices were similar. So as he made himself comfortable in the armchair opposite me, I had to remind myself it was Jack, not Erik.
So weird.
“My brother’s not a saint. He has dated for fun a few times, but serious fun, you know?”
I had a good idea, actually. “Someone he liked and respected and had a good time with. Short term. Ended it when he realized they really weren’t going anywhere?”
“See? You know my brother as well as any of us. Which means you get him.” He shrugged as if that was in and of itself an explanation.
“Is there a point to bringing up his exes or are you enjoying watching me squirm?” I knew Erik loved me but I really didn’t want to think about the women who came before me.
Like, ever.
“I brought it up because, as I said, Erik takes relationships very seriously. He ends them as soon as he knows they’re going nowhere. But the day of his first playoff game I find you here in his condo, wearing his shirt.”
Oh, this was the Big-Brother-Warning-Talk. The Don’t-Break-His-Heart-Lecture. He was a little late for that.
“I love him.”
Jack smiled. “I know. I’m glad to hear you know it. I was a little worried.”
“Worried?” That I’d hide my head in the sand and run away from the inevitable? It was a valid concern and I didn’t begrudge him it.
“Belle mentioned some things. Nothing specific. It just made me wonder, after seeing how aloof you were with him, if maybe you weren’t ready for the intensity that comes with dating a ballplayer.”
Now that was a whole other thing. “My life as a writer isn’t exactly drama free. Erik has spent some time getting to know my world, the people I work with, what my days look like. I’ve been around the team for a couple of years now and I had a good idea of what Erik’s life was like, but he’s also spent a lot of time explaining his schedule, his road games, what the playoffs will be like. I think I can handle it.”
Jack nodded once and went back to sipping his coffee.
But my curiosity got the better of me. “Is that what happened to you?”
“Yes,” he said bluntly. “But Erik and I are two very different people. Plus he’s meeting you at thirty-three. He’s much wiser and ready for a relationship. Berlin and I were young and I was stupid. And now I’m divorced.” He finished off his coffee, setting it on the coffee table. “Moral of the story is, don’t let your ego get bigger than your heart. You can live without an ego but can’t live without a heart.”
Jack put me in a melancholy mood and I spent the rest of the morning writing some very heartfelt stuff for . . . something. It didn’t fit the book I was editing and it had nothing to do with any of the other projects I had sitting on the back burner. It had no home but I wrote it anyway because if I had learned anything in my short career, it was that inspired, heartfelt bursts of writing were gold, no matter what.
After Erik woke up from his nap we got dressed for the night ahead. Him to face the press on his way into the stadium with the rest of the team, and me to meet his mother. I was kind of relieved that it was only Bernice and Jack coming to today’s game. I’d meet almost everyone else by the end of next week.
No pressure at all.
It was just that I didn’t want any sort of foot to drop and ruin how incredibly happy I was right now. Plus I didn’t want any drama distracting Erik from his dream coming true.
Luckily my concerns were completely unfounded. Not only was Bernice every bit as lovely and wonderful as her sons described, but her first moment alone with me she voiced the same hope.
“My son has dreamt about playing in The World Series since he was ten. I found him standing on his bed with his bat over his shoulder, calling an imaginary game.