Page 7 of Catching Her Heart (Austin Stars Baseball RomCom #2)

CHAPTER SEVEN

I'm sitting in the coffee shop, staring at my laptop screen without seeing it.

The cursor blinks mockingly at me from a completely blank document.

I came here to write my resignation letter, but I keep getting distracted by memories.

This is where Ted and I had our first real conversation.

Where I became "butterfingers." Where everything started.

Mrs. Adams has been hovering, refilling my coffee cup every ten minutes and shooting me worried glances. I probably look as pathetic as I feel.

The bell above the door chimes, and I don't look up. I can't handle any more well-meaning customers trying to make small talk. But footsteps approach my table, and when I finally glance up, my heart stops.

Ted stands beside my table, still in his team polo, hair slightly messed like he's been running his hands through it. His eyes are intense, searching my face.

"I saw your car," he says quietly. "Can I sit?"

I nod, not trusting my voice. He slides into the seat across from me, the same seat where we shared hot chocolate and coffee just days ago. It feels like a lifetime.

"Bridget told me about Chicago," he says without preamble.

Heat floods my cheeks. "She promised she wouldn't?—"

"Don't be mad at her. She was crying when she called me. Said she couldn't stand by and watch me lose the best thing that ever happened to me." Ted's mouth quirks in a small smile. "Her words, not mine."

"Ted—"

"I saw your articles this week," he interrupts. "You didn't write about my terrible games, did you? You've been protecting me even after I accused you of betraying you."

I look down at my hands. "It wouldn't have been professional."

"A reporter who was using me for stories would have written about my slump. It's been the most obvious story of the week. Simmons certainly didn't miss it."

My stomach clenches at the mention of Simmons's brutal piece about Ted's "sudden defensive collapse."

"I talked to Simmons," Ted continues. "Cornered him after yesterday's game. He got the Johnson trade information from Johnson's agent. Apparently the agent was shopping the story around to put pressure on the team. Simmons just got lucky."

I stare at him. "You... investigated?"

"I should have done it three days ago instead of being a stubborn fool." Ted looks away and lets out a long breath. "I've been so foolish, Piper. I should’ve trusted you. I should have known you would never betray me."

Tears prick my eyes. "Ted?—"

"I was scared," he says quietly. "I've never felt this way about anyone before. When I thought you'd used me, it wasn't just about the story. It was about thinking that what we had wasn't real. That I'd imagined the connection between us."

"It was real," I whisper. "It is real."

"Then don't go to Chicago." The words come out urgent, desperate.

"I love you, Piper. I love your terrible hand-eye coordination and your fierce determination and the way you see what actually matters.

I love that you asked hard questions from day one, and I love that you protected me even when you had every right to be furious with me. "

My heart is hammering against my ribs. "Ted..."

"I know this won't be easy—the reporter-player thing. But I'd rather figure it out together than lose you. We can set boundaries, create rules, whatever we need to do. Your integrity this week proved you won't cross lines that matter."

I want to say yes. Every cell in my body is screaming at me to say yes. But there's still a small voice of doubt.

"What happens the next time someone pressures me for inside information? What happens when I have to choose between a career-making story and protecting you?"

"Then we'll deal with it together," Ted says simply. "Look, I can't promise it'll be perfect. But I can promise I'll trust you. Really trust you. No more jumping to conclusions, no more assuming the worst."

He reaches across the table for my hand, the same gesture from our first coffee date. When his fingers touch mine, that familiar warmth spreads up my arm.

"Besides," he says, his eyes twinkling, "Chicago's got terrible coffee shops. I checked. And I doubt any of them would put up with your clumsiness the way Mrs. Adams does."

Despite everything, I laugh. Actually laugh. "Are you seriously using my clumsiness as a reason to stay?"

"I'm using everything," Ted grins. "Your clumsiness, your stubbornness, the fact that my family will disown me if you leave. Bridget already picked out her maid of honor dress."

"She mentioned that."

"And Nana bought a mother-of-the-bride hat. Apparently it's lavender and 'brings out her eyes.'"

I'm laughing harder now, tears streaming down my face. "That's not even how it works!"

"Try telling her that." Ted's thumb strokes across my knuckles. "Please stay. Stay and help me figure out how to make this work. Stay and let my family plan our ridiculously premature wedding. Stay and keep writing stories that matter."

I look into his eyes, at the hope and love I see there. I think about Chicago, about the safe choice that would take me away from all this complication. Then I think about coffee dates and game balls and a man who sees past my professional armor to who I really am.

"Okay," I say softly.

"Okay?" Ted's face lights up like Christmas morning.

"Okay, I'll stay. I'll tell Chicago no. I'll let Bridget plan our hypothetical wedding." I pause, grinning. "But I'm drawing the line at letting her sing. Some things are too cruel, even for love."

Ted laughs, loud and joyful, and stands up to lean across the table and kiss me. Right there in the coffee shop, in front of everyone in there.

When we break apart, both breathing hard, Ted rests his forehead against mine.

"I love you," he says.

"I love you too," I reply. "Always."

"Even when I'm being insufferably stubborn?"

"Especially then."

From behind the counter, Mrs. Adams starts a slow clap. "About time," she calls out. "I was starting to think I'd have to lock you two in here until you worked it out."

We laugh, still holding hands across the table, and I realize that sometimes the scariest choice is also the right one. Sometimes you have to risk everything for love.