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seven

. . .

[Declan]

What the fuck?

I don’t bother to answer Isaiah’s question. Instead, I simply reach across the kitchen counter, snag the short glass of alcohol out of his hand and take a heavy gulp.

During that wedding week in Colorado, when I spent most of my time sneaking into India’s room, India and I made a pact. Isaiah was never to know what happened. I don’t know what we thought that would prove—keeping our secret from him—especially when I’d hoped to see India again.

Like see her see her. In the flesh. Naked. Beneath me. Again.

One weekend wasn’t enough, and at thirty then, I was winding down from the rare casual hookups and random one-night stands. I was looking to settle down, knowing I couldn’t play baseball forever even if I had a few good years still in me.

By the end of our week, I’d known India was someone I wanted to explore a future with. I’d never felt that way before.

I respected that she had aspirations of reporting for a professional team, and I even hoped to pull some strings with the Chicago Anchors and bring her to the Midwest.

But everything fell apart after that weekend. Within weeks, I’d gotten a life changing call from a friend.

Michelle and I were only together a few times. Nothing serious. Scratching an itch. We were double protected, or so we thought. Our last time together was a couple of months before Isaiah’s wedding.

The best thing about Michelle is she’s levelheaded. Neither of us wanted to marry the other. Neither of us wanted to give up the baby. We’d work it out. Together.

And I forfeited the possibility of being with India.

And never considered confessing to Isaiah what we’d done.

“Isaiah,” India shrieks, bringing me back to the present.

Slowly, I lower the drink in my hand.

“What? You think I didn’t know,” Isaiah counters, his voice slurred.

I don’t know how he knows anything at the moment because it’s clear my best friend is drunk. However, he doesn’t seem as upset as I’d thought he’d be. Then again, it was a long, long time ago.

“You were always pining after him.” Isaiah points in my direction while blinking at his sister before he turns toward me. “And you always asked about her.”

“I—” I didn’t have an immediate defense.

Once Michelle told me we were having a baby, I couldn’t even think straight.

I didn’t know how to carve out space for India, despite how much I wanted her.

I needed a friend. I needed someone by my side, but it was a huge ask to bring the new girl in my life into the sudden chaos of it.

I left India in the outfield as I slid through my life for a year.

Once I was up to bat again, got my feet underneath me, I was too late.

India was engaged to someone else.

So yeah, I asked about her, realizing way too late she was the one who got away.

“I wasn’t pining.” India scoffs, crossing her arms once more.

Her defensive stance does nothing but draw my attention to her ankle. Her foot wobbling side to side in those damn heels. She’s lying and I can’t explain how hope springs within me.

“ How is Declan? ” Isaiah mocks in a feminine falsetto. “ Have you heard from Declan lately? Is Declan dating anyone? ” He shakes his head. “Even after marrying that loser Malakai, you were still like a fucking inquisition.”

“I am inquisitive,” India counters, sarcastically. She glances in my direction before dragging her eyes away and glaring at her brother. Her tone is biting when she warns him, “And let’s leave Malakai out of this.”

“Yes,” Isaiah hisses. “Let’s.”

Despite the questions I asked about India, Isaiah wasn’t always forthcoming.

When his sister got married, I RSVP’d that I’d attend and then chickened out last minute.

I couldn’t watch her marry someone else.

Not that I thought she’d marry me. I don’t know what I thought, other than I wanted a shot, and my shot was missed.

A quick internet search of Malakai Malarkey clued me in he was an investment banker and huge fan of the Vegas Victors. Some even speculated he was a silent owner, giving India a two-headed coin with the team. Her dad was the manager, her husband a money man.

And by the time she married him, I was a retired professional player, with a kid, coaching at the college level. I wouldn’t have earned Richard Baker’s stamp of approval. I also wasn’t good enough for India .

Years later, Isaiah let it slip how much of a shit Malakai was, how he didn’t support India, he didn’t deserve her. Eventually, Isaiah revealed that Malakai cheated on India, which I didn’t hear about until after India left her husband. That was a little over a year ago. Her divorce is now final.

“Dude,” I drop my voice, hoping to draw his attention away from his sister and what’s certain to be a difficult topic. “What’s gotten into you?”

“And you,” Isaiah turns toward me, bracing his hands on the countertop like he needs the sturdy support. “My best friend.” He lowers his head, slowly shaking it. “We were all friends. Remember Colorado?”

Colorado is where Isaiah married Penn in a wintery setting one January.

India and I meet eyes again. Isn’t that trip exactly what Isaiah is referencing?

“When you married Penn?” India asks for confirmation, her concerned eyes turned on her brother.

“Penn,” Isaiah whispers, closing his eyes a second, like he’s suddenly remembering his wife. “When did it stop?” His eyes spring open, revealing how red-rimmed and glassy they are. “When did we stop having fun?” He presses a soft fist to his chest. “When did it all fall apart? What happened to us?”

Does he mean us , as friends? Or them , as husband and wife? The confusion and concern have me sharing another worrisome glance with India before she takes a step closer to her brother.

A deep crease marks her brows as she places her hand on her brother’s back and lowers her voice. “Did something happen with Penn? Did you two have a fight?”

As if sensing we are talking about her, Isaiah’s phone rings. He pulls it from his back pocket, stares at the caller ID, and then dismisses the call. When he looks up at me, he purses his lips. “I’ll just step into the other room.”

Helping himself to my bedroom off one side of the kitchen, he closes the door, effectively shutting India and me out.

Still standing within the kitchen, I lean against the countertop separating us. “What was that all about?”

“I have no idea.” She stares at the closed door to my bedroom for a second before glancing back at me. However, she doesn’t meet my eyes when she argues, “And I wasn’t pining .”

“I didn’t say a thing.” Lifting both hands in surrender, I’m not disagreeing with whether she pined for me or not. Although, my chest does puff a little bit with hope that she did pine. That she did long for me as I’d longed for her.

Moreover, I am curious how Isaiah found out about us. “Did you tell him?”

Her head snaps upright. “Of course not.”

“Of course not,” I repeat quietly. Because why would she tell her brother that we slept together?

When the best week of our lives was never going to be repeated, why share with anyone that it happened?

She might have reached out about visiting me in Chicago, but I misjudged my swing with her because I wasn’t in the right headspace. Timing wasn’t on my side.

I took a chance that she’d be there later .

When I was up to bat again, aiming for the outfield, I hit the ball directly into the second baseman’s glove, forcing another out.

I’d blown all my chances with India.

She married the next guy.