was taking notes furiously at this point, trying to get it all down. Theirs was such a beautiful story. It sounded like a real-life fairytale, and I couldn’t believe I was getting to hear it all like this.
“Did you guys ever switch teams?” I asked.
“No way,” she said. “Tyler, well, he always told people the damn Yankees were the ones who brought us together. He laughed long and loud at the face I made whenever he said it, too. Correcting him was futile, but I didn’t think it was the Yanks or my Mets. Like I said, it was baseball, that indefinable magic of the game, that first made us dislike each other and then fall in love.”
“Well, I’m honored that you told me your story,” I said. “It sounds like one for the record books.”
“Have you ever been in love, Honor?”
The question was so unexpected it took me a second to respond. Looking up, I met her steady gaze.
“I don’t think so,” I said.
“Why not?” she asked. “You seem like a smart, sweet girl, and you said yourself you love romance.”
“In books,” I said. “In real life, not so much.”
She tilted her head, so I went on.
“To be honest, it’s always seemed like such a huge risk, putting all of your trust and heart into the care of one person? Trusting them not to leave, to love you back? Being constantly afraid of losing them? Love is scary.”
Mrs. O’Brien smiled sadly. “Love is the most terrifying thing in the world, but trust me, it’s worth it.”
I blinked, taking that in. I couldn’t explain all my doubts to someone I’d just met, could barely explain them to myself. But here I was talking to a woman who had lost her husband to cancer about love and loss, and here she was telling me it was worth it. If that wasn’t a ringing endorsement of love, I didn’t know what was.
“I know it’s your interview,” she said, “but could I ask you a few questions?”
“Sure,” I said, thinking/hoping/praying, please let them be easier than the first one.
“Are you a baseball fan?”
So much for easy.
“Will you throw me out if I say no?” I asked.
Mrs. O’Brien laughed while shaking her head. “I guess I’ll let you stay. Though maybe you’re a bit more of a fan then you’re letting on. You are doing these profiles.”
“Until recently, I didn’t even know what a line drive was,” I confessed.
“Hm, and I wonder who taught you that term…”
Archer had, I thought, fighting down another flush at her shrewd look.
“One of your sons actually,” I said. “They’re all amazing from what I can tell. Do you think any of them will go pro one day?”
She sat back in her chair, drumming her fingernails against the desk. “I think any of them could play professionally—if they really wanted to. But I’d never force that on them. They’d have to want it for themselves.”
That sounded fair.
“Would you ever date a pro baseball player?” she asked.
Wow, I thought, trying not to read into that question but failing miserably.
“Not sure,” I said slowly. “Why would you ask me that?”
Mrs. O’Brien shrugged, but her eyes seemed tighter than they were a second ago. “Just curious. A lot of girls would love to date a pro baller or even a college starter with a lot of prospects. They have a lot going for them: fame, good looks, potentially a great salary.”
“Well,” I said, tapping my chin, “in that case, I might date one. But it would depend.”
“On what?” she asked.
“Are they a Yankees fan?” I said. “Because I’ve heard those can be trouble.”
There was a moment of silence, and then suddenly she smiled.
“Good answer,” she said.
“I thought so,” I said back. “But seriously, what was that all about? I’m not secretly some baseball bunny who’s searching for her ticket to fame and fortune. I’m just a reporter looking for a good story.”
“I get that,” she said. “I just wanted to be sure. You’d be surprised how many young ladies with less than honorable intentions come around here looking to get to my team.”
“Okay…but why did you doubt me in the first place?”
Mrs. O’Brien sighed. “Honestly, I heard about you before this meeting.”
I blinked at that. “Oh?”
“Yes,” she said. “Apparently, you caught the eye of my son, Archer. He asked you for a date, and you turned him down. Is that right?”
“I did.” I swallowed, only now realizing she’d asked me more questions than I’d asked her during the time we’d spent together.