I know that look. I’ve used that look.
But it’s directed at Kai so now not only am I tired, but I’m also fuming.
Handing off her Sharpie, she turns around and collects her hair to one side, allowing him to sign her jersey, and when he’s done, you’d think he’d move on. But no, he stays to speak to her some more. She points to Max, who is finally relaxed, and whatever she says puts a smile on Kai’s face, one that I’m used to being the main recipient of.
And then my blood begins to boil when she slips a piece of paper into his free hand—her number, no doubt.
I’m not the kind of girl who simply sits back and watches her man get hit on. I’ve also never had a man to claim before, and although I’d like to walk right over there and claim Kai for myself, he’s not my man either. And I’m the one who made sure of that.
I shouldn’t feel possessive, I don’t have the right to, but I can’t help it. I’m oddly rattled. This woman doesn’t know anything about him.
She doesn’t know that he raised his brother or that he tried to retire the same day he became Max’s only parent. She doesn’t know what he tastes like or that his glasses fog up when he kisses for too long.
I get it. He’s absurdly attractive and a professional athlete. I know that selfless single dad thing has to do it for other women the way it does for me, but he’s not available.
Right?
Since when am I jealous? I’ve never been attached enough to be jealous.
And why am I spiraling, imagining this random redhead as Max’s new mom?
I bet she’d know how to make him feel better when he’s sick. I’m sure she would’ve been able to get him to stop crying in the parking lot. She’s most likely a lawyer or a doctor. Even worse, she’s probably a pediatrician who owns a lot of cardigans and comes from a giant family who would love to welcome those two into their fold.
Family is the most important thing to Kai, and I’m sure he’d love a big one to raise his son around.
God, she’s perfect. I hate her so much.
This is why I need girlfriends. I can’t exactly bitch to my dad about how much I hate Kai’s redheaded future wife or that, regardless of me leaving town soon, those are my boys, and I’m not prepared to share.
So I text the only girlfriend I have.
Me: Kai’s future wife is stunning. I hate her. She also has red hair and I’m real close to hating all gingers because of it.
Kennedy: I have red hair.
Me: I know. That’s why I’m giving you a warning. But at least you’re not trying to seduce the man I’m sleeping with by asking him to sign your jersey or give him what is most likely fantastic parenting advice which is conveniently accompanied by the phone number you slipped into his hand.
Kennedy: Uh-oh. Are the fans making you jealous?
Me: I’m not jealous. But yes.
Kennedy: Why? You and Ace are just sleeping together, right?
Me: Right.
Kennedy: I gotta finish cleaning up the training room, but sit with me on the plane? We can talk about all your confusing feelings on the flight to San Francisco.
Me: Can’t tonight. Max isn’t feeling well, but let’s get lunch or something tomorrow.
Kennedy: Deal, but wait. Did you save my number in your phone? I’m honored, Miss Unattached.
Me: Yeah. Yeah. You know what this means, right? We’re in a committed relationship now.
Kennedy: Omg. Am I your first?
Me: You popped my committed relationship cherry, Kennedy Kay.
Kennedy: Double honored.
I give Kai and his son one more long, lingering look. He’s still talking to that same woman, and before I can look away, he turns to catch me staring. Kai stands locked still, watching me while she continues to speak to him, and our eye contact is only broken when I eventually offer him an understanding smile and turn back to the bus.
I don’t want to understand it, but I do. Kai will eventually meet someone who will settle down with him, and we both know that someone won’t be me.
Chapter 29
Kai
“This one was a little too inside, but your speed was good.” Harrison, one of the pitching coaches, uses his cursor to move the stilled image around, showing me all angles of one of my pitches tonight.
I’m trying to focus on the computer, showcasing my post-game pitch breakdown, on the flight from Anaheim to San Francisco, but there’s a woman in the aisle opposite me, holding both my sleeping son and all my attention.
The baby Tylenol finally kicked in, thank God, relieving some of Max’s discomfort and allowing him a bit of rest. Miller is overly exhausted, but Max wouldn’t go down in his crib, always being a bit needy when he doesn’t feel well, so she’s trying her hardest to get an hour of sleep in an uncomfortable airplane seat while my son naps on her.