Play Along(127)

“So . . .” Reese urges. “What do you say?”

“On one condition.”

“Oh, she’s making demands now.” Her tone is teasing. “Go for it.”

“I want an office manager. I don’t want to be doing paperwork all the time. I want to be hands-on in the training room and on the field.”

“Done.”

Well, shit. That was easy.

“One more thing.”

Reese nods for me to continue, trying to hold back her laughter.

“My previous position will need to be filled. I want to be the one to hire my replacement.”

“Well, that is part of your new job description.”

Holy hell, it is.

“So, is that a yes?” she presses.

My smile blooms so wide, my cheeks pinch. “That’s a yes.”

“Perfect. I’ll get your new contract drawn up. And Kennedy, I know my grandfather set some archaic guidelines, saying that if you and Isaiah ended your relationship, one of you would have to go.” She shakes her head. “I don’t care about that. If you don’t want to be with him, you’re not going to lose your job over it.”

“I appreciate that, Reese, but that’s not going to be a problem.”

Her lips purse in a knowing grin, like maybe she’s known certain details for a while now. “Okay. Good to know, but um . . .” Her eyes trail down my clothes. “Any chance you could work the game tonight? I’m short a doctor.”

“I think I can do that.”

Monty stands from his chair. “I got to get ready for tonight, but Kennedy, we’re all glad you’re staying.”

“Thank you, Monty . . . for everything.”

“Don’t thank me. That was all you. But I need a win tonight, so you should probably go tell your husband that you’re sticking around.”





Chapter 38


Kennedy


I’m in a complete daze leaving Reese’s office. My vision is fuzzy and zoned out, focused on nothing in particular when I close the door behind me.

What the hell just happened?

How did that all happen?

Well, I guess I know the answer to that, so the real question I’m asking myself is how did I get so lucky?

“Kenny.”

The voice snaps me back to reality, my focus zeroing in on a frantic Isaiah as he jogs towards me.

Speaking of lucky.

How lucky am I that I get to call him mine?

Isaiah is wearing his baseball pants—only his baseball pants. His perfectly disheveled hair looking like his hands haven’t stopped running through it all morning.

He’s got that manila envelope, holding it up when he stops in front of me, heaving chest and desperate, pleading eyes. “Look,” he begins. “I know I gave you a choice. I wanted you to make your own decision, but I’ve got to be honest here, I don’t totally love this one.”

My face softens into a smile.

How was there ever a day that I wasn’t completely and utterly gone for this guy?

There are a lot of things I learned in our time together, but the biggest lesson my husband taught me is what it feels like to be loved for the first time in my life.

I’ll never be able to thank him enough for being unwavering in his feelings for me, but I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure he feels as safe and secure with me as he’s made me feel with him.

“Maybe let’s hold off on this part,” he continues. “I don’t know that we necessarily need to file these right this second—”

“Isaiah,” I cut him off with amusement. “Did you not look at them?”

There’s a heavy pause as his throat works a swallow. “I couldn’t do it, Ken.”

My sweet, sensitive husband. Words I never thought I’d use to describe him, but Isaiah’s soft edges are one of my favorite things about him. He only allows certain people to see that side of him, and I’m not only one of those lucky people he chose to trust, but I’m also the one he chose to love.

Staff members busy the halls, getting from one place to another while the two of us stay locked in a standstill in front of Reese’s office. We’re on full display for anyone to see us, and Isaiah is holding our divorce papers in his hand.

“Come with me,” I tell him, taking his hand and pulling him behind.

Outside of the clubhouse, we slip into the same restroom where we first met.

“Open them,” I urge.

He shakes his head. “Don’t make me do that here of all places.”

“Isaiah,” I chuckle. “Trust me. Open the envelope.”

Confusion is clear as day on his handsome face, looking at me like I’m attempting to torture the man in the place where we’ve had so many of our big moments.

We met in here. We exchanged rings in here. We’ve argued and made up in here.

I get to tell him I love him in here.

Leaning back on the sink, he carefully lifts the metal prongs, opens the flap, and pulls out the stack of papers.

His eyes trail down the first page before flipping to the second, looking for whatever it is I’m so adamant about him seeing. I don’t rush him. I allow him the time he needs to take it all in. But soon enough, the obvious defeat takes over as he reads the papers he had drafted for us.