The Ninth Inning (The Boys of Baseball #1) - J. Sterling Page 0,103

piece,” her dad said, and I gave him a nod.

“Don’t try to sell her online!” Lauren shouted before putting two fingers near her eyes and then pointing them at me. “I’m watching you, Anders.”

“Where are we going?” Christina asked. Always with the questions, my girl was.

“I want to show you something.” I reached for her hand and pulled her down the hall toward my childhood bedroom.

“I’ve already seen it.” She laughed, and I smacked her ass as she walked through the doorway.

“Not that. This.” I walked over to my bed and reached for a folder that was sitting on top of it. I handed it to her with a smile I couldn’t hold back.

“What is this?” she said as she opened it and started flipping through the pages, her eyes scanning them before she went back to page one and started actually reading.

I’d created a business proposal for her that included all of the pros and cons as to why she should start her own company versus going to work for someone else.

“You made this for me?”

“I did.” I watched as her expression morphed from shocked to excited as she continued to read.

“You really think I could go out on my own already?” She looked up from the papers, her eyes misting over.

I pulled her close and kissed her before reminding her, “You’ve already been doing it for years.”

“I know, but it’s not the same,” she started to argue, and I knew it was only because she was scared.

“It’s exactly the same. Only now, you’d be getting paid for your work. You’re amazing at this. Because of you, The Long Ones are actually making money. You did that.” I knew she was about to say I was wrong, so I continued with my rebuttal, “You made people take notice of them. You’re the reason they started getting views and sponsored ads and publicity. You don’t need anyone else telling you how to do this job, Christina.”

“Why are you saying all this now? We can talk about me later.” She tossed the folder back onto the bed. “Not that I don’t appreciate it. But we should be out there, celebrating you right now!”

I wrapped my arms around her waist and kissed her nose. “I’m telling you all this because I want you to come with me.”

She tried to lean back and break my hold on her, but I only held on tighter. “You want me to go with you?”

“Yep,” I said like it was the most logical and reasonable thing ever. But in my mind, it was. There was no reason for me to go to Iowa, where the team was located, and have her stay here. Not when she could technically work from anywhere.

“But,” she said before closing her mouth and exhaling through her nose. She was trying to fight back but knew she had no real argument, and it was adorable.

“But nothing. I plan on being with you for the rest of my God-given life, Miss Travers. I don’t see why that can’t start now.”

“Don’t you think it’s too soon to move to God knows where and live together?”

My girl was scared.

“Nope.”

“What do you mean, nope?”

“I want to be with you. I don’t want to live apart if we don’t have to, and we don’t. Have to, that is. You can work from home, or I’ll rent you an office space for you to work out of. Whatever you want, but you can do your job from anywhere, right? I just want that anywhere to be wherever I am.”

I hadn’t even mentioned the fact that I’d get a pretty hefty signing bonus offer. While the majority of Minor League Baseball players lived on shitty monthly salaries, I wouldn’t be one of them. Yes, I’d still get paid that basically unlivable wage to play baseball, but we would also have more than enough money to live comfortably for years to come.

“How can I say no to that?” She smiled before rising up on her toes to give me a kiss.

Thank God she’d said yes; otherwise, I was going to have to pull out the big guns and promise her a puppy—or twenty. This girl made my world complete. She and baseball were the two things on earth I never wanted to live without.

But if I ever had to choose between them, it would always be her. Every time.

Epilogue

One Year Later

Christina

We’d moved to Iowa less than a week later. I’d skipped walking through graduation with my class, and even though my