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“That’s weird. I thought she would have loved him.”
“I don’t know.” Sydney watches the six-foot-tall talking snowman. “He’s kinda terrifying. My head could fit in his mouth.”
I glance at her, then the snowman. “Well, now that you say it, I’d be terrified too.”
I think it’s safe to say her obsession with the talking snowman is over.
On our last night, it sinks in. I won’t have this soon. I’ll be hundreds of miles away, alone, playing with guys I’ve never met before.
I fear Sydney will come to her senses and move on. I’m a twenty-two-year-old kid, and Sydney is a single mother, strong, independent… she doesn’t need me. I want her to, and the fact that she doesn’t makes me want her even more.
I knew I’d be leaving for Salt Lake City to play in the minors. But it still didn’t sink in until my last night, with the fireworks bursting to life in the sky, that I say goodbye to them.
“I’m gonna be leaving to play baseball,” I tell Tatum, holding her in my arms. Sydney’s in line to get her another Dole Whip. I’m not sure she’s going to understand what I’m saying to her. She’s three, and the extent of our conversations have never been much, other than her telling me what to do.
Tatum shifts to look at me but doesn’t say anything.
I watch her face as I say the next part. “I won’t see you for a while.”
Her brow comes together, her hands on my cheeks. “Boy.” She sighs but doesn’t say anything else. I’m not entirely sure how to take that.
Sydney approaches with the Dole Whip in hand. We sit on a bench, the sky bursting to life with reds, greens, and purples. With Tatum on my lap, I hold the bowl while she dips the spoon in.
“I told her I’m leaving tomorrow,” I confess, looking to Sydney for her reaction.
Tears surface in her eyes, her head on my shoulder, her hand on mine. “She knows you’ll be back again.”
I press my lips to the top of Tatum’s head. “I won’t forget you, kid.”
At first I think she’s crying, because something wet hits my hand wrapped around her, but then I realize I’m wearing a good portion of that Dole Whip.
IN THE HOTEL ROOM, I lie next to Sydney, the sounds of Tatum sleeping on the bed next to us soothing, and terrifying. Leaving them is no longer a fear. It’s a reality in less than six hours.
I touch my hand to Sydney’s cheek, sighing. “Don’t forget me.”
Tears surface in her eyes. “That’s impossible.”
I watch her expression fade from sadness to confusion, mirroring my own. “I know you have a life to live, responsibilities, all of that, but—”
She cuts me off. “This won’t be easy, but I’m certainly not in a place where I want to date anyone. I wasn’t even looking for a relationship. And then you happened.”
“I wasn’t looking for that either.”
Her expression softens. “Funny how it finds you when you’re least expecting it.”
I nod, unsure what to say.
“What I mean is, I wasn’t looking for any of that, and you came along and filled the gap I didn’t realize was there. So while you’re gone, just know you’ve got the field covered.”
I snort, shaking my head and trying not to laugh. At least I know she won’t be dating anyone while I’m gone. “You’re something else, Sydney.”
She cups both my cheeks in her hand. “And you’re going to be amazing. I can’t wait to watch every game and talk to you every single day.” Her lips press to mine, tender, sweet, but there’s a certain passion that hadn’t been there earlier today.
With the lights off, the only sounds the humming of the air conditioner, it’s easy to want our last night to be more. I imagine making love to her for hours and constantly confessing my intentions of forever with her. But it doesn’t happen that way. We have these tender moments in the dark, with Tatum snoring next to us.
Sighing, I touch my hand to Sydney’s hip and squeeze, my voice low and meant only for her to hear. “These phone calls… will they be rated R at some point?”
Her bottom lip rolls between her teeth, her breathing picking up. “I think that can be arranged.”