Page 117 of My So-Called Perfect Life

With Cara in the capable hands of Evan, I watch my dream come true. The bottom of the ninth comes fast, and I think my stomach is in my throat. Boston tied the score last inning. I don’t know if I can handle watching the Dodgers blow it again.

Hernández steps up to the plate.

Come on. Come on.

A swing and a … foul ball.

Come on. Shake it off.

The pitcher winds up, and the crack of the bat rings in my ears as I watch the ball sail into center field, right over the wall for a walk-off home run.

I stand, stunned, for a moment before the entire bar erupts in cheers.

Holy shit!

The Dodgers won the World Series.

The next half an hour flies by in a blur of shots and beers. Everyone in the bar is celebrating as if they were all just as big of a Dodgers fan as me.

Even Cara has snapped out of her funk and is enjoying the win.

Evan catches me at the far end of the bar. “Hey, man. Cara is done. She’s ready to drop. I needed to get her home, like, ten minutes ago.” He chuckles. “I forgot how quick she goes from zero to sixty.”

“Why don’t I just take her upstairs? Let her sleep it off.”

He nods. “That’s not a bad idea.”

A pretty blonde walks by, and Evan’s attention immediately shifts from getting Cara home to the woman’s ass. He’s so shameless.

“Go.” I nod toward the woman. “I’ll take her up.”

“I’ll swing by in the morning and get her.”

Cara leans over the bar, looking ready to fall asleep in her drink.

“Come on, Cara, babe. I’ll bring you upstairs. You can lie down.”

Coming around the bar, I put my arm around her waist and guide her to the back. She trips, heading out the back door, and we almost fall in the alley.

“Sorry.” She giggles. “I think I had about one too many.”

I laugh. “More like three too many, babe.”

“You’re so awesome, Ryan,” she coos. “You’re going to make a great husband one day. Just don’t decide nine years into your marriage that you don’t want to be with her anymore, okay? I like that Danielle girl.”

Me too, Cara. Me too.

The stairs are a bit of a struggle, and I practically have to carry her up them, but I finally make it up. She stumbles and sends us flying backward into the door. Lord, I should’ve cut her off a while ago. A minute later, I get her on the couch.

I’m pretty sure she was asleep before I laid her down.

Taking a deep breath, I sit on one of the kitchen chairs. Cara’s words resonate in my mind. The way she’s feeling now is exactly what I’m trying to avoid with Danielle. I need to make sure that we both want the same things from each other. No just one-sided love. Not one person—mainly me—happy and head over heels in love while the other is unhappy, wanting something that isn’t a life with the other.

The booming sound of someone banging on the door startles the shit out of me.

“RYAN!”

A woman’s muffled voice filters in through the pounding on the door.