Page 38 of Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend (Catching Feelings #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

KAYLA

I ’m still riding the emotional high from the baby shower when my family shows up at the stadium a few hours later.

It’s the second inning, and we’re already leading three–zero.

Since Fletch moved Lucas to starting pitcher last month, we’re on a tear, as Sean says—more strikeouts, fewer walks, actual momentum.

Attendance is up, too, and not just because it’s Sunday afternoon.

It’s been trending up since the wedding, and I know I have Sean to thank for that.

He thinks it’s just a passing fad thanks to his NHL debut.

But I know it’s simply him. The Blue Collars and those of them with families come to games now.

More of the people from church, too (including Clementine on the organ).

People are giving me the benefit of the doubt because I married the best man any of them know.

Including me.

I hug his arm as we walk from my office down the main concourse to the Owner’s Seats right behind home plate —premium field-level seating that puts us in the middle of everything. I typically let the coaching staff or player’s families use my seats, but today, they’re all mine.

I love watching from the Owner’s Box, but there’s something about being in the stands. The stickiness of the concrete underfoot and crunch of peanut shells. The smell of kettle corn, sunscreen, and grass. Calls of vendors selling lemonade and sweet tea. It feels like being part of something.

My brothers are standing on top of the home dugout, Hunter still in the hot pink McLadyPants shirt Tripp loaned him.

I groan and sit beside my mom. “Who gave Hunter a T-shirt cannon?”

“Oh, he brought that with him,” she says with a sigh.

Sean lets out a laugh—a sharp burst that earns him twin looks from both of us.

“Please don’t encourage him,” Mom says, only mostly joking.

“What T-shirts is he even shooting?” I ask, shielding my eyes to squint at him.

“I wish I could tell you,” she says. “He said it was ‘sponsored content.’ I didn’t have the courage for follow-up questions.”

On the field, Lucas winds up and delivers a pitch that zips across the plate. Rivers catches it with a solid thwack.

“Ball one!” the ump calls.

I throw my hands out. “Are you kidding me? That was dead center!”

Sean grimaces. “It was high.”

“Okay, maybe it clipped the top of the zone.”

Sean points to a little graphic on the scoreboard near first base. It shows a big square, the strike zone, and a tiny red dot just above it.

“The dot says it was too high,” he says. “Means the ump got it right.”

I huff. “Barely.”

“Only you could argue with a robo-ump,” he says, grinning.

I kiss his cheek, his beard tickling my chin as it always does. “Don’t sell yourself short, Cap. With a little dedication, this could be you.”

“I’ll keep dreaming.”

My parents exchange a look. “Did our daughter just have a full conversation about the strike zone?” Dad asks.

Mom shrugs. “If I knew what a strike zone was, I think I’d say yes.”

We all laugh. I definitely got my sports apathy from her.

“It’s okay, Mom. You’ll get there,” I say, bumping her shoulder with mine. “This summer, it’s all strike zones and double plays. But come fall, we’ll be talking power plays and goalie save percentages.”

“She means hockey,” Sean says.

Mom smiles. “Whatever you say, sweetie.”

Dad chuckles, then leans toward Sean. “Any word from the Arsenal?”

I feel Sean straighten beside me.

“Yeah,” he says. “They called last night. I leave for a three-week eval camp Monday, probably rooming with a rookie barely old enough to vote. I just hope I don’t have to teach him how to do laundry.”

Dad laughs. “We’ll be rooting for you. The second you tell us what jersey to get, we’ll be wearing it from the bleachers.”

“With face paint,” I add, grinning at Sean.

He ducks his head. “Thanks.”

For a split second, I catch something soft behind his eyes.

I wonder what that kind of instant, no-questions-asked support feels like to him.

I know his dad and brother love him unconditionally.

They’re good men. I know his mom’s doing her best to make amends.

But I also know Sean’s spent most of his life being the emergency contact.

The guy you call when things fall apart.

Does he realize my family isn’t just being polite? That they mean it, no matter the logo on his chest? And if he does … does it make him feel more confident?

Or more terrified?

The sharp pop of something dropping behind me makes me flinch, and then I hear a young voice. “Louisa! Don’t step on my glove!”

I freeze. I know that voice. And I know the voice of his little sister, who says, “Phineas, if you’d stop dropping it, I’d stop stepping on it.”

“Be kind to your brother,” another voice says, one I know better than almost any other.

I turn, and there they are, coming down the stairs and about to slide into the row directly behind us:

Aldridge, his sister Meryl—who’s balancing her posh tote bag and a tray of nachos with perfect precision—and Meryl’s two kids: Phineas and Louisa.

Meryl’s eyes light up when she sees me, even as I feel the color drain from my face. “Kayla!”

“Auntie Kay!” Louisa squeals.

The kids try to climb over the seat toward me, but Meryl stops them. “Go around, kids. We’re people, not animals.”

I look at Sean with wide eyes that I hope my sunglasses are hiding. I grin and say under my breath, “That’s Meryl, Aldridge’s sister, and her kids.”

Sean’s face steels. And a moment later, Phineas and Louisa are launching past Sean to throw themselves at me.

And as I hold them close, peppering them with kisses and seeing my ex-best friend beam at me, I think I’m going to cry.

Meryl and I had plans. We were going to raise our kidstogether. She had master-planned me having a honeymoon baby with Aldridge and her timing her next pregnancy so our kids could practically be twins. We talked family trips and cousin sleepovers.

All of that dissolved the day I ended things with Aldridge.

Yet here she is, like nothing has changed.

Except, everything has changed. I’ll always love this family, but they’ll never be my family. We won’t have babies together or vacation together.

It hurts worse than losing Aldridge ever could.

I hold Phineas and Louisa close, my chest aching from remembering how they were once the brightest spots in my life. “My babies! How are you?”

“Where were you, Auntie Kay?” Louisa asks. “You didn’t come to my recital.”

Meryl gasps. “Louisa, we talked about this.” She leans forward and touches my shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Kay. I swear, we’ve gone over that a hundred times.” She smiles, a little sheepish. Up close, her makeup is flawless—subtle shimmer on her cheekbones, not a hair out of place.

It almost makes me wish I’d worn full makeup today.

Meryl turns to Sean. “You must be Kayla’s husband, the man I will never forgive for stealing my almost-sister away.” She beams, too light, too effervescent for the moment. “I’m Meryl, her almost-sister-in-law. And you’ve met my brother, Aldridge. The almost-husband.”

“Good to meet you, Meryl. Aldridge, good seeing you again. And … I’m sorry?”

Meryl laughs, and Aldridge gives a decent attempt. “As you should be,” Meryl says, though her eyes are warm. “I kept hoping these two would figure it out, but it’s clear Kayla found where she’s meant to be. You’re glowing, hon—your Instagram proves it.”

“Ouch,” Aldridge mutters, and I smile in spite of myself. “I’m sitting right here, Mer.”

Meryl leans back in her seat, grinning. “You’re the one who lost the sister of my dreams. I’m the real victim.”

A beat passes. Then Aldridge says, quietly, “We both know that’s not true.”

And it’s that tone that kills me.

Because I know he means it.

Aldridge isn’t all bad. When he’s hurt, he’s at his worst. But we had good times. I saw something in him once that had nothing to do with how he made me feel in public. He cared about me. Too much, honestly, but he did care.

And now, seeing him see me so much happier than I was with him, I feel bad for him.

Aldridge reaches a hand over to my parents. “Lawson, Jolene, it’s good to see you.”

“You, too,” Dad says, shaking Aldridge’s hand.

Meanwhile, Phineas and Louisa are fighting for my lap, and no amount of me putting one on each knee seems to solve it.

“Phineas, just sit on Kayla’s husband’s lap,” Louisa says, giving her brother a kick.

“No,” a chorus of voices say. I don’t know where my voice is in that chorus, we all blend so well.

“Phin, why don’t you come back up and sit with me,” Aldridge says. Then he whispers conspiratorially. “Don’t tell your mom, but I have cotton candy.”

Phineas scrambles over the back of the chair like a blur. Louisa puts her arms around my neck and leans against me. “I’m so happy to see you, Auntie Kay.”

I look at Sean again. His mouth is smiling, but his eyes aren’t. “I’m happy to see you, too.”

Louisa wriggles off me when Aldridge tempts her away with another cotton candy. I almost laugh at him, because that’s what he always did. They’d fight for me, he’d flash a treat to win them over, and I’d shoot him a dirty, playful look.

It’s scary how easy it would be to fall back into that rhythm.

Even when I know how offbeat it sounds now.

I reach for Sean’s drink, and he hands it to me with a tight smile.

What is this like for him? My brothers have returned from their cannon shenanigans and are sitting on Sean’s other side, thank heavens. They talked to Aldridge politely. Gray even gave him a hug.

They never hated the man like my dad evidently did, but they never joked with him the way they already do with Sean.

It’s bizarre, feeling torn apart like this. Missing Meryl and her kids so much that it physically hurts to think this may be the last time I ever see them again. But at the same time, wishing they’d never come at all.

And I can’t talk to Sean about any of it.

Partially because we have an audience, and partially because whenever I slip my hand into his?—