Winning With Him (Men of Summer #2) - Lauren Blakely Page 0,15

of first times behind me.

I’ve been through worse than this and came out on the other side.

The key to survival is you don’t let the people who hurt you back in.

The Night Before Opening Day

8

Declan

Heels click-clack across the hardwood floor as I try to decide if I like this place.

I wander through the living room while the realtor, Avery, gestures to the floor-to-ceiling windows and the city beyond as Manhattan unveils itself. “And you have a fantastic view of Central Park. Soon the spring flowers will be in bloom,” she says, her pretty soprano voice floating across the one-bedroom apartment on Fifth Avenue. “The tulips are gorgeous, and the hyacinths too.”

I wince.

“Or maybe you don’t like flowers,” Avery says, reading my expression quickly.

“They’re fine.” What the hell can I say?

Oh, hey, hyacinths remind me of this story a guy told me late one night in bed, about Apollo and his lover who turned into a hyacinth, and now I can’t live near some blue flowers.

Yeah, that sounds great. I go with, “The view is great. Nice neighborhood too.”

“There’s a great organic cafe around the corner. It’s hard to beat if you like that type of food,” she says.

I give her a faint smile as I check out the kitchen. “That’s great.”

Fitz’s husband hooked me up with Avery. Dean met her at his bar and she gets high marks from the referral service for gay- and gay-friendly realtors in the city. Avery has busted her ass so far. When I called her from Florida a few days ago and said I needed a short-term rental in the city immediately, in just a few hours, she found me a place to rent for the first month here.

Now, on my one day off before the season opener, she’s taken me to six places. She’s an Energizer bunny of a realtor. Nothing seems to get her down, even though I haven’t fallen for any of the apartments for sale.

Maybe I’m not in the mood to like anything. Perhaps my wiring isn’t working that way right now.

She keeps talking as she gazes out the window. “I’m partial to the park, of course. My wife and I were married there.”

“That’s great,” I say listlessly.

That seems to be all I can manage. That’s great. That’s great. That’s great. It sounds so hollow, but that’s been my mood.

“Sorry,” I say with more vim and vigor this time. “It is great.”

At least, I hope I’m vimming and vigoring.

Avery flashes a bright smile. “Let’s check out the rest of the place. How do you think you’ll like playing in New York City?”

“Hard to say. I’ve only ever played as a visiting team. Sorry about that,” I say.

She gives me a curious look, then she waves aside the apology. “Nothing to be sorry for. Not so long as you get us the World Series.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Avery chatters more about the building, undeterred by my mood. She’s been undeterred all morning—high marks indeed.

When we head into the bedroom, I stare at the empty space, imagining what it would look like with a king-size bed.

Imagining the bed.

Imagining the company—and I don’t mean for sex.

I mean the falling asleep with someone. The waking up with someone. The November with someone.

I look away, turning to the main bath.

“Do you like it?” Avery asks as I pass her.

I give a half-hearted shrug. “When can I move in?”

She shoots me a sympathetic look. “Are you sure, Declan? You don’t seem crazy about it.”

It’s funny, the realtor’s concern. I didn’t expect someone trying to sell me something to care about my state of mind.

But maybe it’s just that obvious. Maybe I need to try harder to move on.

I wish I were as good at ignoring shit as I want to be.

“Yeah. It’s just something I need to do.” I pat the doorway to the bathroom. “This’ll do.”

“This will be your home. It’s a big deal. It shouldn’t just ‘do.’ I’m happy to show you as many places as you want to see,” she says. “Do you want to see something in Chelsea or the West Village where there’s more of a scene, maybe?”

I shudder, hating the thought. “No. I actually like being closer to work.” The Upper East Side has the benefit of proximity to the ballpark in the Bronx.

“If you want it, we can move forward and close in a month.”

Permanent.

I would own this pad.

But that’s what this is—my new permanent life in New York. Three thousand miles away from family. Three thousand miles away from