The What If Guy - Lauren Blakely Page 0,49

“How do I choose?”

Amy sighs heavily. “You have what is known as a double-bath-bomb problem.”

I knit my brow. “And what is that?”

“It’s a million shades of gray that can only be sifted through with a good long soak in a tub. So, you soak, and you contemplate.”

That I can do.

21

Logan

With laser focus, I eye the pitch.

I call on the same focus I’ve tried to employ all day yesterday and today. The focus I’ve needed to resist Bryn since we met at the coffee shop two nights ago.

To stay away from her office. To refrain from texting her. To give her the space she asked for.

As the ball crosses the plate, my metal bat connects with a thwack.

The sound of possibility.

For a split second, my eyes follow the ball’s trajectory over the field, but there’s no time to linger. It’s Friday night, and I have a game to win. I hustle down the first baseline, watching the flight of the ball.

“Go, Daddy, go!”

Amelia’s cheer from the bleachers is loud and proud, energizing me to run even faster.

My foot lands on the first base bag right as the ball soars past the fence in Central Park. I thrust my arms skyward. “Yes!”

A shout comes from ahead of me on the field. “I knew you were good for something!” My sister’s rounding second base, heading toward third.

Oliver’s ahead of her, shouting back at me, “I never gave up on you. Not once in all these years.”

I roll my eyes. “You two are so sweet,” I call out, laughing as I follow them, adrenaline surging, chased by the thrill of victory—that home run seals the game for my team.

After I trot around the bases, I cross home plate, smacking the palms of my sister and Oliver. “Woohoo! We did it!”

“You did it, Daddy! You’re the best!” Amelia shouts from her vantage point on Fitz’s shoulders as he joins the rest of the team.

Fitz lifts his arms, wraps them around her waist, and lifts her off his shoulders. “That tickles! Don’t drop me, Fitzy,” she says to him as he sets her down gently.

He tickles her waist. “Never. I’d never tickle you while you were on my shoulders. Only the ground, and then you’ll beg for mercy from the tickle monster.”

With a boisterous laugh, she wiggles away. “Stop, tickle monster, stop!” She rushes to me, hugging me. “Your home run was my favorite part of the game.” She taps her lip. “Except Calvin and Hobbes was a little better.”

“What?” I act indignant.

“Fitz was reading to me the whole time he wasn’t playing, and we read Calvin and Hobbes,” she says.

I ruffle her hair. “You can never go wrong with one of America’s best comics,” I say, grateful that my friends take turns keeping Amelia occupied.

“Amelia,” Fitz chides. “Tell your dad the truth. You read a lot of it to me too.”

My kid smiles at me, big and bright. “It’s true, Daddy. I read to Fitzy. And he was super impressed because I am an awesome reader, thanks to you.” She pats my forearm and tells Fitz, “He reads to me every night.”

“I taught him how to read,” he deadpans.

I roll my eyes, but then meet my friend’s blue-eyed gaze, clapping him on the shoulder. “Thanks for hanging with her during the game.”

He tousles her hair. “One of my favorite things to do.” He looks at the crew—Summer, Oliver, and me. “You guys up for some chow before the show? I’m hungry just from watching Logan expend all that energy on a grand slam.”

Summer gestures uptown. “I’ve got to stop by the fitness center. I want to see how the kickboxing class went tonight, but I can join you guys in a bit.”

Oliver slips an arm around her waist. “I bet it went perfectly. What could go wrong with kickboxing for seniors?”

“Gee. I don’t know,” Summer says. “That’s why I need to go. But we’ll meet up with you guys at the Lucky Spot, right? Check out the new band.”

“See you there,” I say, grateful to hang with my crew tonight, since I don’t actually know when I’ll hear from Bryn again on the do you want to disclose and date question. But I’ll give her time.

Oliver and Summer grab their softball gear and head off.

“I want to go out with you and your friends tonight,” Amelia says, frowning as she bats puppy-dog, take-me-with-you eyes. They work in most circumstances. Except tonight, since my time with her is unwinding.

I drop a kiss to her cheek. “I