Page 52 of Playing Hard to Hate

Even her best friend, Millie Sacs, was spotted jumping up and down in excitement beside her.

But just when we thought we had enough drama for one week, the internet exploded this morning with the surprise launch of Silver and Grace’s jewelry campaign, and get this, it was an engagement-themed shoot!

The campaign, shot weeks ago for luxury jeweler Devereaux & Co.

, features the couple gazing lovingly at each other, Tate’s hand adorned with a massive diamond ring.

With the way these two can’t keep their hands off each other, it’s no surprise fans are already speculating…

some even whispering about possible baby news.

Rumors have been swirling that Tate might be pregnant, with some wondering if that’s what’s behind the flurry of engagement chatter. So are wedding bells in the air for baseball’s hottest new couple? Or is this just a case of art imitating life a little too soon?

One thing’s for sure. Griffin Silver isn’t just winning championships. He might just be winning hearts too.

“Dinner is tonight, right?” I avoided the elephant in the room. Wedding bells? Engagement? All from a fake engagement shoot.

Griffin looked up from his phone, his eyes wide, his throat working as he swallowed hard. “Yeah…and let’s hope Mom hasn’t seen this article yet. She’ll start planning immediately, an d Dad—” He let out a sharp breath, dragging a hand down his face. “He’ll make some shitty comments. Ugh, fuck.”

Millie and Dustin jumped into the conversation. “You’re getting married?” they asked in unison, Millie’s voice bubbling with excitement while Dustin’s tone crackled with fury.

“It was a fake campaign.” I sighed, annoyance curling in my chest. Could they not read? “They made shit up, as usual.”

That seemed to end the conversation, thankfully. But it didn’t erase the tabloid sitting there like a ticking time bomb.

Later that evening, Griffin was driving us to his parents’ house in his sleek M3, the hum of the engine doing little to quiet the storm in my head.

My stomach twisted with nerves. I hadn’t seen his mom in years.

I’d barely spoken to his father ever, even when Griffin and I were just kids. And now, I had to face the house.

The house where everything had been perfect—until it wasn’t.

The last time I saw it, I was still young enough to believe in happy endings. Back then, the windows glowed warm in the evenings, the scent of my mom’s cooking drifted through the open doors, and the sound of laughter filled every corner. But then the truth shattered it all.

Dad’s affair. The betrayal. The late-night fights that cracked through the walls like thunder.

And then, the worst part. Watching my mom pack up our lives in boxes because she couldn’t afford to stay.

It wasn’t just a house we left behind that day. It was a family. A future.

Now, I was going back.

I clenched my hands in my lap, staring out the window as the town blurred by.

Griffin glanced over, sensing my tension. “You okay? ”

I forced a breath and nodded, even though my heart was pounding. “Yeah. Just…a lot of memories.”

He didn’t press, but the way his fingers tightened around the steering wheel told me he understood.

And as we turned onto that all-too-familiar street, I braced myself for the ghosts waiting for me at the end of it.

There was no Buster running around on the front porch, no familiar bark echoing through the yard. The roses my mom had spent years tending—her pride, her ritual—were gone, replaced by a bare stretch of soil that didn’t remember her touch.

The house wasn’t the same shade of white anymore.

Instead, it stood in a dark, unfamiliar gray, like a shadow of what it used to be.

There were new toys scattered in the garden, bright plastic cars and a tiny swing set.

Evidence of a different childhood unfolding here, one that had nothing to do with me.

This wasn’t my home. Not anymore.

A lump rose in my throat as I gripped the car door handle, staring at the life that had taken root where mine had been uprooted. A new family lived there now.

“Tate?” Griffin’s voice was soft, careful. His gray eyes tracked my every move, concern woven into his expression. “We can leave. We don’t have to go inside.”

I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around the door handle. For a split second, I wanted to say yes to let him turn the car around, to pretend this dinner never had to happen. But I wouldn’t be the reason it fell apart before it even began.

“I’m okay.” The words felt thin, but I forced them out anyway.

Pushing the door open, I stepped out, my black heels clicking sharply against the pristine concrete of the driveway.

The sound echoed in the too-quiet air, each step reminding me that I didn’t belong here anymore.

I sidestepped the carefully manicured patches of turf laid out in a decorative design because, of course, even the grass had to be perfect.

It reeked of wealth. Of a life I had once known but hadn’t been part of for so long.

And now, I was walking straight back into it.

Griffin’s mother had always been the image of perfection, and time had been kind to her. The only sign that the years had passed were the soft crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes, appearing like delicate cracks in porcelain whenever she smiled.

“You look so beautiful,” she cooed the moment she opened the door, her voice dripping with warmth. Before I could respond, I was engulfed in a hug, her arms pulling me in tight. The scent of her perfume, floral and familiar, wrapped around me.

For a moment, I let myself sink into it. The warmth. The comfort. The feeling of a mother’s love.

I had missed this. More than I wanted to admit.

Griffin lingered behind me, watching us with a small, knowing smile. His mother finally pulled back, cupping my face gently before ushering us inside.

The dining room was just as I remembered, elegant but sterile, the kind of place meant for dinner parties, not messy family meals.

The long mahogany table was set to perfection, every piece of silverware gleaming under the chandelier.

A rich aroma filled the air, and I spotted the spread—roast chicken, creamy mashed potatoes, a medley of vegetables, and warm rolls, all arranged like something out of a magazine.

We took our seats, and Griffin’s mother, Evelyn, wasted no time filling our plates. “So, Tate…” She began, her voice light with curiosity. “How has life been treating you? Are you still in that same condominium after everything that happened?”

I swallowed a sip of water, my fingers tightening slightly around the glass. “Yeah. It’s, um…had some rough moments lately, and I’m actually going to be moving soon.”

Griffin gave me a brief, knowing look, but I didn’t want to elaborate, and he nodded.

Evelyn clucked her tongue sympathetically. “You know, you could always move in with Griffin. He would love to take care of you.”

Before I could think of how to respond, she shifted her attention to Griffin. “And you, sweetheart? I see you won the championship!”

Griffin nodded, swallowing a bite of chicken. “Yeah, it’s been crazy busy, but I love every second of it!”

Evelyn beamed. “That’s wonderful, darling. Your father will be so proud.”

At the mention of him, the air seemed to shift. Griffin’s jaw tensed slightly, and I felt my own stomach tighten.

As if summoned, the sound of the front door opening echoed through the house, followed by the sharp clack of dress shoes against the marble floor.

And then he appeared.

Griffin’s father, Charles Silver, was as imposing as ever. Tall, broad-shouldered, and meticulously put together, he carried himself like a man who was always in control. But his expression as he stepped into the dining room was anything but warm.

He barely glanced at me before turning to his son, his voice sharp as he said, “So are you going to tell me why I had to hear from the damn news that you’re engaged?”

The room fell silent .

Griffin let out a slow breath, setting his fork down with practiced patience. “Dad, it’s not?—”

“You’re too young to be getting married,” Charles cut him off, his gaze flicking to me. “And let’s be honest, son. She’s not right for you.”

The words sliced through me, but I refused to flinch. Instead, I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze head-on.

Griffin, however, wasn’t so composed. His chair scraped back slightly as he leaned forward, his voice cold. “Excuse me?”

Charles sighed, exasperated. “Come on, Griffin. You have your whole career ahead of you. A wedding? That’s a distraction. And the kind of distraction you don’t need.” His tone darkened, eyes narrowing. “Especially not with someone like her.”

Evelyn sucked in a breath, looking mortified. “Charles.”

Griffin’s hands curled into fists on the table, his entire body stiff with restrained anger. “Someone like her?” His voice was dangerously low.

I could feel my pulse pounding in my ears, but I refused to let Charles see how much his words affected me. Instead, I smiled a sharp, practiced smile. “You’re right, Mr. Silver. I’m probably not what you envisioned for your son.”

Charles huffed. “I think we can both agree on that.”

Griffin shot up from his seat, his chair scraping against the floor. “Enough.” His voice was pure steel. “I don’t need your approval. I never have.”

For the first time, something flickered in Charles’s expression, something like surprise, maybe even a hint of respect.

But it didn’t matter. Because the damage had already been done.

And suddenly, that warm feeling I’d had when I first stepped inside this house? It was long gone.