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Cason and me… we don’t leave the ranch out. There’s no need to worry with him. What you see is what you get. He doesn’t bullshit you, and if he says he’s going to do something, he does it. He’s easy. Literally. All I have to do is look in the general direction of his cock, and he’s pulling it out to see if I want some. Benefits of dating a twenty-four-year-old.
My second point?
Don’t wait for the ranch to be left out. Talk to them. Like Granny said, “If you can put their dick in your mouth, you can talk to them about what’s bothering you.” Don’t wait for them to get a girlfriend and stop paying your bills because then they die in a car accident, and you’ll never get your answer.
If I get to heaven and he tells me it’s because I didn’t suck his dick, I’m going to cunt punch him. And then apologize to Jesus for my behavior, because I’m a fucking lady.
Love isn’t holding someone back. It isn’t making them feel like they’re not good enough or holding their actions hostage. If you don’t know what I mean by that, I’m happy for you.
If you do, we have something in common. My entire relationship with Collin, I was afraid to believe I deserved better. And I hadn’t realized until after Collin, that parts of my heart and my unwillingness to be put back into that “girlfriend” or more category had everything to do with parts of my heart being off-limits.
It didn’t stop Cason from trying to steal it, one base at a time.
That night, as I’m getting the kids ready for bed, Cason calls me.
“I was traded,” he tells me, his voice distant, sad even.
“Really? Where to?” It’s the life of a baseball player. You didn’t dare set down roots anywhere because, at the drop of a hat, you could be traded and asked to report in another state the next day. For that reason, I still live in Phoenix because Tatum is in school, and Cason keeps an apartment in Anaheim. We’re there more than we’re in Phoenix some months, but we make it work and don’t go more than a week without seeing him either. It’s a rule we made early on, and we’ve kept with it.
Until today, when he gives me the word “traded.” I fear the twist our lives are about to take. Right now, we’re only five hours from him. What would happen if he’s traded to an east coast team?
Blowing out a breath, Cason pauses before laughing. “Diamondbacks.”
My heart literally jumps in my chest and I nearly drop Alston. “Seriously?”
“Yep. I’ll be home tonight.”
Looks like I’m shaving my legs.
EIGHT HOURS ANDtwenty-seven minutes later, Cason walks through the door of our home he’s rarely at these days but bought us after I had Alston. Both kids are asleep on the floor— underneath the Christmas tree— having waited up to see him but couldn’t make it.
“Honey, I’m home,” he says, walking through the door. He sets his bag down in the foyer, and I rush toward him, wrapping my arms around him.
I breathe him in, thankful to have him home with us. “Longest day of my life.”
“You’re telling me.” He breathes into the curve of my neck. When he pulls back, his eyes move to the Christmas tree in the living room and both kids sound asleep under it. “It’s August.”
“We celebrate Christmas multiple times a year here.”
“Well, this is worth celebrating.” He laughs, but I notice there’s something off about him. He looks… nervous? We haven’t seen each other in a couple weeks. Maybe that’s it? No, no. This is different. “I need to do something,” he says, pulling away. I stare at him and am met with those same beautiful blue eyes I saw in that coffee shop that day. “I can’t wait any longer.”
I know what he’s about to do. Something he wanted to do before Alston was born but didn’t because it was a rush to the World Series and everything that comes with being a professional baseball player. Our lives revolved around their schedule.
Regardless, something passes across his features—a moment of hesitation maybe—before he shakes his head. With a deep breath, he drops to one knee before me and holds up a ring. “Will you marry me?” With a strong jaw and hooded eyes, he waits. Juliet meet Romeo. Isn’t that how the Taylor Swift song goes?
Oh, whatever. He’s waiting on me.
My heart jackhammers its way through my rib cage. I let his question sink in, healing my heart.
He gazes at me through his long dark lashes, the heat in my chest intensifying. “Please?”
“It’s about time you asked,” I tease, yanking him up.
He slides the ring on my finger, and I open my mouth to say yes, but just as I begin to utter the words, my throat clogs with emotion. Here we are, standing in the foyer of a home we share together—when the dude’s not on the road—in the same spot my life was shattered three years ago. I intend on giving him a verbal yes answer and maybe sealing the deal in bed before the kids wake up, but Tatum must have heard his voice because I hear her squeal before I see her.
“Daddy!” she screams and runs into his arms.
Cason’s eyes meet mine, Tatum in one arm, Alston crawling into his other. “I loved being call Boy, but Daddy is so much better.”