the quiet, ignoring the rumble of her stomach. The room felt so different with someone living in it: his book by the bed, his shoes by the door, his peculiar collection of nutritional supplements that he sometimes made into what she called Hulk Smoothies (“They make you strong and they’re unnaturally green,” as she’d told him) lined up on the kitchenette counter next to the blender. She had more room on her countertop in the big kitchen, she thought, than he had in here. He could move the whole smoothie operation for as long as he decided to stay. And she had room in the living room where her TV was to set up his Xbox. Maybe her bedroom upstairs could be the guest room. Maybe they could build a big walk-in closet out of part of the apartment. Maybe the pinball machine would go in the living room if they moved the sofa in here. If he decided not to leave.
Of course, she thought, if he went back to pitching, he’d travel a lot. He’d be gone all the time. All over the country, different places, big chunks of the year. Could he be based here? If he wanted to be? Did other people travel with the team? Did wives? Did…whatever she was right now? What if it turned out that he pitched better with her there, the way he had at the Spring Dance when they’d made sure he knew she was in the stands. Maybe it depended on what team. If he spent time in the minors, she supposed that might wind up being anywhere. She didn’t know. But they’d talk. They’d figure it out. If he decided not to leave.
* * *
—
Evvie didn’t hear much from Dean during the trip, but then, he’d warned her about that. She texted him Good luck! and a red heart on the first full day he was gone, and he texted back, Thanks, Minnesota. Keep things warm while I’m gone. She had laughed at this and blushed, but she had taken the request seriously, sleeping in his bed in the apartment the whole time.
After that one message, she heard nothing at all until Monday morning, when he texted, Should be there by six tonight. Lots to talk about. See you soon.
It was a slow day, hot and lazy, which Evvie spent at the grocery store and the bakery and a little shop where she bought herself a necklace with a white and red enamel baseball charm hanging from it. She kept looking at her phone to see what time it was, to see if he’d texted. He’d been gone three days, but she’d quickly gotten spoiled on the utterly entitled feeling it gave her to know she could reach out whenever she wanted and put her hand on his back, or her arms around his waist, or she could kiss him and pull him into the apartment and get him half naked in seven seconds.
As six o’clock passed, she walked around the kitchen, sat down again, got up, sat down in the living room, got up, went back to the kitchen, poured a glass of water, went into the bathroom and brushed her hair, and wound up back at the kitchen table. And at about twenty minutes past six, she heard the truck pull in and stop. She wondered whether to run out the door, or open the door, or stand up, but she sat where she was until the side door opened and he stood there with his bag over his shoulder and his keys in his hand. “Hey,” he said. He dropped the keys on the table.
“Hey.” Now she stood, went over to him, and slid her arms around him. “I’m happy to see you.” She reached up and kissed him.
“I’m happy to see you, too.” He kissed her again, this time on the forehead. “What did I miss?”
“Nothing big, I don’t think. I mostly hung out here. It’s been hot. I had lunch with Kell one day.” Why, she wondered, are we talking about this? Why isn’t he saying anything? “How did it go?”
They stepped back from each other, and he slid off his jacket and put it on a hook by the door. He turned back to her and crossed his arms. He shook his head. “I threw it into the stands, Ev.”
She felt it in her chest. “What do you mean?” She held up one hand. “Sit down and tell me. I’ll get