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CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHEETAH

T he time Kam and I have been waiting for has arrived. Tonight, during the seventh-inning stretch of my game, she and I are performing the rumba. It’s called the “dance of love” for a reason. Lots of hip movements and lots of sensuality.

The dance works well with my regular song, “Cheetah” by Chris Brown. We went back to Ms. Rylee to practice this specific dance a handful of times. There’s not one second of our practice time I haven’t loved. It’s Kam and me with a heavy dose of fun, laughter, and the best foreplay in existence.

Kam isn’t remotely nervous. She’s so excited about the big performance.

We chose this game because it’s the first Ripley will attend. They moved back a few weeks ago, but Ripley has been home with Kaya. With her being a preemie and them getting a little media attention, they didn’t want to take her in public for a bit, but today is that day. All our friends are finally at a game together, and Kam and I have secretly been planning a big show for them. They have no idea it’s coming.

When the time comes, she’s escorted out to the field. She removes the jersey she’s wearing to reveal a sexy suede outfit. It’s got a Tarzan and Jane vibe, with a barely-there strip of material and beads across her generous chest, her abs on display, and a purposefully jaggedly cut, very short skirt, also clad with beading. It works well with the sensual movements of the dance, and her long, bare legs are capped with heels. I think everyone in the stadium is salivating, me included.

There’s a loud sea of whistles coming from the stands and the dugouts. Kam pays them no attention. She’s homed in on me with her giant smile. How did I get so lucky?

She approaches me with an excited bounce in her step. I take her hand and kiss it. “You’re stunning.”

Her smile widens as she turns my baseball cap backward. “Just don’t drop me, kitten.”

I wink. “Never.”

She falls into my arms as we get into ready position. She smells so fucking good. I love it. It’s become so familiar and soothing to me.

The music begins, as do the erotic synchronized movements of our hips. The fans are going crazy. They expect a little something extra from Kam and me at this point, but nothing as polished and professional as what we’re giving them.

We’re hitting every sexy movement with perfection, and we nail the first two lifts. Neither are as grand as the finale lift though.

We have huge grins on our faces as we twirl and sway around the field. The fans are getting into it. They’re all on their feet, clapping their hands, singing the words to the song. I love bringing so much joy to everyone.

The end is nearing. For the finale, we do a spin move that flows seamlessly into me lifting her into the air above my head with one hand. I’m basically supporting her entire weight with my hand on her hip. It took me forever to learn how to balance her properly like this, but we’ve nailed it at practice enough for me to feel confident to perform it today.

The song comes to an end with her hoisted above my head. After a pregnant pause for what I imagine is extreme shock at the professional-level routine and ending lift they just witnessed, every person in that stadium erupts in cheers. It may be the loudest I’ve ever heard this stadium, and we’ve been in the World Series before. The stunned faces in the dugout are priceless.

I gently pull Kam down until she falls into my arms like a bride. She’s smiling like a loon before she cups my cheek and softly pecks my lips.

That’s not enough for me. I’m too wired. I deepen the kiss, and the fans go wilder. I know they must feel like they’re witnessing a real live love story. I know I do. It’s like I’m living in one of Gemma’s novels.

Once I set her feet on the ground, I watch her as she raises her hands in the air and then curtsies. I stare at her in awe. She’s my everything. I’m so fucking in love with her.

While being overcome with my love and affection for this woman, I do the dumbest thing possible. In front of over forty thousand people, I drop down to one knee.

Kam doesn’t notice at first, but the entire stadium collectively gasps in shock. I see her brief moment of confusion before her head turns to me, and her eyes widen in shock.

She breathes, “What are you doing?”

I beam at her. “Kam bam, I love you more than anything in this world and don’t want to live another day of my life without you by my side. What do you say to a little long-term prostitution? Marry me.”

Tears immediately well in her eyes. Her head swivels as if realizing just how many people are silently waiting for her answer. And waiting…and waiting…and waiting.

The silent pause is so long that people separately begin yelling out, “Do it!” before forty thousand people end up chanting it in unison.

I can tell she’s struggling. The look on her face tells me that I’m not going to get the answer I had hoped for. Eventually, I stand, and my shoulders fall. “You’re not going to say yes, are you?”

Tears spill down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Cruz. I can’t. I told you I’m not the marrying type.”

“Do you love me?” I pathetically ask.

She’s again silent, simply staring at me, looking miserable.

The extreme awkwardness is broken only by the bevy of boos being leveled by the crowd as they begin to understand that I’m being rejected. They start shouting expletives at her. And then they start throwing things onto the field. Hot dogs, beer bottles, pretzels. All of it.

Shit. This is bad. Really bad.

Security rushes out. They have to shield and escort her to the underground, private area of the stadium. What the hell did I do?

Despite the warm weather, a chill suddenly works its way through my body. My hands are shaking.

As my team silently takes the field again, my teammates all slap my back and mumble things like, “Sorry man,” and “That sucks.”

Trey is the last to walk over to me. I look up at him. “I feel like such a loser. She doesn’t love me like I love her.”

He sighs as he hands me my baseball glove. “I don’t know if that’s true, but given her issues, it was an impossible spot to put her in. And now you’ve probably turned her into the most hated person in Philly. This is going to be a PR mess. I’m truly sorry, this sucks for you, but it’s about to get really fucking bad for Kam.”

I remove my baseball cap and run my fingers through my hair. “Shit. You’re right. I didn’t mean to do it to her. I was just feeling the moment.”

He nods. “I know, buddy. We’ll figure out a way to make it right. Let’s focus on finishing this game for now, and we’ll deal with this afterward.”

KAMRYN

I’m pacing in front of the locker room. What in the fuck was he thinking proposing to me? He knows my feelings about marriage. And in a public setting? Is he on crack ?

I don’t know what to do. Should I go find my sister? Although she’s not herself right now. She and Tanner started things back up again but are supposedly truly casual. She’s pulling the purse strings this time around, keeping him at arm’s length. But I know my sister. Casual sex isn’t in her vocabulary. I’m fearful that she’s going to get hurt all over again.

I can’t think about her fucked relationship with Tanner Montgomery right now. It consumes too many of my thoughts. I’ve got my own fucked-up relationship to deal with.

Should I leave? Maybe this was for the best. We were never headed for his happily ever after. Maybe this will give us a clean break. I haven’t wanted to let him go, but perhaps this is the push I needed. He obviously wants to get married. I don’t think I’m capable of it.

But the thought of losing him hurts more. Is that what marriage is? When you’d rather be with a person than not? I can’t imagine it’s that simple. It’s not exactly like I had an example of a happy marriage to watch growing up.

My head is spinning with a million thoughts. Maybe I should go call Dr. Pearl. I have an emergency number. Yes, I’ll go home and do that. She’ll tell me what to do. More likely, she’ll push me to figure out what it is I want to do, but I think I need her thought-provoking questions to figure this out.

I hurriedly walk to the end of the hallway to the exit and place my hands on the large, heavy metal door. My eyes stare at my hands pressed against the cool metal. As hard as I try, I can't seem to make myself push that door and leave.

I’m hit with the sudden realization that I don’t need Dr. Pearl for this because I know what I want to do. I don’t want to walk away from him. For some reason, I know if I leave, it’s truly over between us. I can’t stomach that.

After a long, calming breath, I turn back around and head toward the locker room. This will probably be a press shitstorm, but that’s not my concern. I don’t give a crap about any of that. It’s Cheetah I care about. The look of disappointment on his face is what will now haunt my nightmares. I need to figure out a way to make this right.

About thirty minutes go by with me practically wearing a hole in the ground. I can hear that the game is finally over. Within minutes, I see several members of the team making their way to the locker room.

None of the guys make eye contact with me. I don’t blame them. I’m sure they all hate me, as does every fan in this stadium. Within a few hours, the entire city will despise me. By morning, the whole country will. Fuck ’em.

Cheetah eventually makes his way toward the locker room door. He’s walking slowly, and his head is down, looking like someone shot his dog. I start to say, “I’m sorr—" but he looks at me and holds up his hands.

“Don’t.” He shakes his head. “I know I shouldn’t have done it in this setting, but it still hurts. I don’t want to be around you right now. Give me time.”

Fuck, he looks so pained. It hurts me to see him hurting. My instinct is to wrap my arms around him and tell him that I care about him. I do. I just don’t want to marry him.

“How much time?” I ask. “I’m not known for my patience.”

He drops his eyes to the ground as he simply shrugs. “I don’t know, Kamryn. I don’t know when or if I’ll ever be okay with this.” He looks back up at me with tears filling his eyes. “You broke my fucking heart.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This is always what I feared getting in too deep with him. Hurting him. It’s the last thing in the world I want. He doesn’t deserve it. Why does it feel like my heart is breaking too?

I whisper, “I’m so sorry.”

His shoulders fall. “Just leave me alone.” His normally happy blue eyes have tears now trickling from them. “I feel like I’m always the one giving in this flingationship . When is it my turn to receive? I’m always the one fighting for you. You know what, Kamryn? I think I’m finally fresh out of fight. You win. Game over.”

I swallow down my emotions and nod. “I just don’t think I can give you what you want.”

“What is it you think I want?”

“I saw the way you looked at Gemma, Trey, and Fletcher in Florida. You want the happy, married, family life.”

He takes a few long breaths. “You think you know what I want, but you don’t. I didn’t ask for any of that.” He looks down and then back up at me. “You know what would be nice? What I do want?”

“What?”

“I want you to care about my needs the way I care about yours. I’ve watched Titanic fifty times in the past year. How many times have you watched Star Wars ? Let me answer that for you. None. I’m single handedly supporting the dark chocolate industry. I’ve gone to your fondue restaurant, the one you know I hate, three times. How many times have you been willing to eat Indian food with me? Let me answer that for you. None. I don’t ask for much, Kamryn, but if you care, a little give now and then wouldn’t hurt.”

He wipes the tears streaming down his face and steels his face. “I’m sorry I broke your fucking rule and fell in love with you. You’ll be extremely satisfied to know that it was the worst mistake of my life. Loving you is the worst mistake of my life.”

I stand in stunned silence as he walks through the doors into his locker room.