Page 28 of Pitcher Perfect (Big Shots #4)

But can you make her happy?

“I don’t know,” he said.

“Think harder, then,” complained Burgess.

“Okay. Jesus.” Robbie massaged his temples, running down the mental list of everything he’d learned about Skylar. “She likes

orange juice with no pulp. She likes making lists. She’s obsessed with her planner. Even uses these cute little stickers and

colorful tapes...”

Sig and Burgess stared back at him, stone-faced.

Robbie cleared his throat and stopped circling around the important stuff. Just put himself out there by proving how deeply

she’d scored him. “She’s brave. She’s funny. She’s got this... heart of an athlete, but it’s not just winning and competing,

she really understands the mentality it takes, how that should be cultivated and coached. She wants to coach... no, she

will and she’ll be excellent at it. If you gave her a whistle and told her to coach hockey, she’d figure out a strategy by the

second period. No lie. She doesn’t take anyone’s shit, but she... knows when to pull back and support someone, too. She

just wants her family to love her unconditionally. She wants to be loved for being great at softball, but she wants to know

she’d be loved without being great at it, too. I don’t know... I don’t know if she has that foundation. She should.” His heart was starting to

beat in a near-painful way. He was indignant and proud and aching all at the same time. “She didn’t get into Brown. So what? ”

With all those words hanging in the atmosphere, echoing back to Robbie in his ears, he suddenly knew. He had to try. He had to try to make Skylar fall in love with him, instead of Madden.

He also knew exactly where to start.

“Get back to Rhode Island and try , Corrigan,” Sig said, correctly interpreting Robbie’s silence as an epiphany. “You might never get this chance again.”

Robbie didn’t get back to the apartment until late.

After practice, he’d showered, changed, and made a stop, promptly getting stuck in the Sox game traffic on the way to his

place. By the time he dragged himself into the elevator and hit the button for his floor, he just wanted to crawl into bed

and sleep long enough to reset his brain. After all, he’d be driving back to Rhode Island first thing in the morning to win

over the woman of his dreams. Rest was key.

He forgot all about the whipped cream party until he walked into it.

“What in... oh. Oh no.” Robbie slapped his hand over his eyes to prevent himself from seeing the scene in his living room

twice. “Mailer!”

“Welcome home, buddy.”

“Don’t talk to me until you have some clothes on,” Robbie barked.

“Hold on.” Two seconds passed. “Okay, I’m covered.”

“In something that isn’t edible.”

“Oh.”

Robbie used his free hand to reach back and grip the door handle, reopening it and backing himself in two lunges into the hallway, refusing to drop his hand from his eyes until the door was closed, muffling Drake by ten or so octaves.

He paced while waiting for Mailer to emerge, debating whether to tell Skylar about this.

Probably, yeah. He’d definitely want to know if she’d seen four men in whipped cream bikinis, even if they were taking turns making out with her friend, instead of her.

“I still wouldn’t like it,” he muttered, his stride hitching.

He wouldn’t like his girlfriend in that situation. Period.

That was the moment Robbie decided he’d never put himself in a position like that ever again. End of story. If by some stroke

of epic luck, Skylar decided to give him a chance, a real one, he wouldn’t be responsible for a single second of insecurity.

Take it to the bank.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Assuming it was his best friend calling from inside the den of iniquity, he answered without

hesitation. “I’m waiting.”

Silence greeted him. Thick silence. The opposite of what was coming from the other side of the apartment door. Quickly, he

checked the screen—and his heart collided with his stomach. “Skylar?” Of course, Mailer selected that moment to open the door,

releasing the unholy soundtrack of debauchery into the air. No, no, no. “Rocket, you there?”

The call ended.

Irritation ripped up the middle of his throat. “ FUCK. ”

“Hey.” Mailer yawned on his way into the hallway, a towel wrapped around his waist, rubbing his knuckles in his chest hair.

“Where have you been? There were more ladies here, but even I can’t handle that many at once. Yet. A little more practice

and who knows—”

“I think I need to move out.”

Mailer snorted, obviously not believing him. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious.” The announcement hadn’t been planned, but that phone call had just made a hard-to-navigate situation even worse.

With every second that ticked by, Robbie was more positive that finding a new place to live was the right thing to do.

Not only for this fairy-tale relationship he was definitely crazy for pursuing, but.

.. for himself. It took meeting Skylar to realize how much respect he’d been lacking for himself and others.

His treatment of women was a big part of that, wasn’t it?

Yeah, he’d been ignoring those lessons he’d learned growing up, trading them for a good time. Only thinking about himself.

No more. Especially if he wanted Skylar. And he did.

Badly.

Time to grow up.

He’d explain what she heard on the phone when they were face-to-face, so he could look her in the eye. She’d see he was telling

the truth. Right now, he had to make his best friend understand the changes that were taking place inside of him.

“It’s not you,” Robbie said. “It’s... me.”

Mailer did a double take. “Wow.”

“That didn’t come out how it sounded, man. You know I love you. I’ve just been doing some soul-searching, I guess, and—”

“Bullshit. You can admit it’s the pitcher.” Mailer crossed his arms. “Admit you like her.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. A fucking lot.” Irritation caused his voice to get louder. “Why wouldn’t I want to admit that?”

“Because we were supposed to be the ones who didn’t get trapped. We’ve talked about this a thousand times. We were going to

be the smart ones who stayed free while all the other idiots got tied up with engagement photo shoots and making babies. Babies

all look the same. We’ve gone over this!”

Robbie shoved his friend, but it was half-hearted, because who liked letting down their best friend? “Oh yeah, those conversations

we had after like nine beers ?”

Mailer pushed him back. “Are you saying you didn’t mean any of it?”

“At the time, maybe I did, but I didn’t know what it was going to feel like to meet Skylar yet. Okay? She’s the thing making me feel free, not the thing taking away my freedom.” He cursed under his breath. “Love isn’t what we thought it was, okay?”

“ Love? ” Mailer covered his face with both hands. “Christ. It’s worse than I imagined.”

“Yeah, no shit! It is pretty fucking bad, because she wants someone else and I’m trying to make something happen. Feels horrific,

if I’m being honest, you dick.”

“Well, I’m sorry it feels horrific, cock wad.”

“Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.”

They shoved each other once more each.

Took a moment to regroup.

“At least come in for a beer.”

“Oh my God. No. I don’t want to see any girls in whipped cream bikinis. I only want to see Skylar in sweatpants.”

“You’ve been brainwashed,” Mailer whispered.

“What happened to you liking the new general manager, anyway? For a week, you couldn’t stop talking about her. Now you’re

doubling down on this playboy lifestyle like it’s your job.”

Mailer’s face lost some of its color. “I asked her out. She told me she doesn’t date boys, she dates men. Then she closed

her office door in my face and emailed me a copy of the organization’s nonfraternization policy.”

Robbie knew better than to show even a hint of sympathy. “Wow. She must be blind, because you’re a king.”

“I know, right?” There was some definite embarrassment mingled with a healthy heap of disappointment in Mailer’s expression,

but he quickly banished it. “Anyway, it’s fine.” He jerked a head toward the apartment door. “I’ve got a deep enough roster,

don’t I?”

Funny, Mailer didn’t look all that excited to go back into the apartment, either.

“You really going to move out?”

“Afraid so. But we’ll still have lasagna nights. At least twice a week.”

“Three and you’ve got a deal.”

“Sold.”

They fist-bumped.

It turned into a hug.

“Look. We don’t have to figure the living situation out tonight. I’m just going to head back to Rhode Island, so you can pick

up where you left off.”

“Great,” Mailer muttered, making no move to enter the apartment. “Thanks.”

“Yeah.” After a brief hesitation, Robbie backed toward the elevator. “See you in a few days, man. Bye.”

“Bye.” Right before Robbie stepped into the elevator, Mailer shouted, “You got this, man. I believe in you.”

The elevator closed on Robbie’s grateful, if dubious, grin.