Daddys perfect game a si.., p.1
Daddy's Perfect Game: A Single Dad Baseball Fauxmance, page 1
Daddy's Perfect Game
A single dad baseball fauxmance
Bailley Blake
Copyright © 2023 by Bailley Blake
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
Contents
Prologue: Austin
1. Avery
2. Austin
3. Avery
4. Austin
5. Avery
6. Austin
7. Avery
8. Austin
9. Avery
10. Avery
11. Austin
12. Avery
13. Austin
14. Avery
15. Austin
16. Avery
17. Austin
18. Avery
19. Austin
20. Avery
21. Austin
22. Avery
23. Austin
24. Austin
Epilogue: Avery
Afterword
Prologue: Austin
The jet ski cuts through the waves, with the wind in our faces. Avery clings to my back. It's exhilarating, and I relish the feeling of freedom. But beneath the thrill, tension simmers between us…just waiting to surface.
Avery's voice breaks through the roar of the engine. I can tell she's been mulling over something.
“Austin,” she begins tentatively, her arms tightening around my waist. “About that girl in the lobby, the one who confronted you. Who was she?”
I glance at her, feeling the weight of her question. She's watching me closely, her green eyes searching my expression.
“Oh, her,” I reply, trying to keep my tone light. “Just a friend, you know? No big deal.”
Avery doesn't seem satisfied with my casual response. Her voice holds a hint of skepticism as she presses further.
“She seemed like a little more than that,” she accuses.
I roll my eyes, the frustration rising. “Avery,” I say firmly, “remember why we're doing this? We're pretending to be a couple for your sister's wedding. That's it. It's just an act.”
Avery's grip tightens; I can feel her frustration as well.
“I know that, Austin,” she retorts, her voice edged with irritation. “But it still doesn't mean you can't be honest. You don't owe me your loyalty, but I thought we were at least supposed to trust each other.”
I sigh, realizing that she's right. This whole fake relationship thing has blurred the lines between us, and maybe I've been careless. “Look,” I say, trying to strike a balance. “I'm sorry. But you have to understand that this isn't real. We're just playing our parts.”
As I continue driving the jet ski, I decide it's time to spice things up. I tilt the handlebars, and the vehicle responds eagerly, veering sharply to the right. The maneuver is swift, and before Avery can react, we're leaning precariously, carving a tight turn.
Avery gasps, her arms tightening around me and her fingernails grazing my skin. Her eyes widen in surprise, and I feel a rush of excitement. The jet ski continues its graceful arc, and for a moment, I think we've pulled it off flawlessly. But then, reality crashes in as I hear a sudden splash. Avery, unable to withstand the force of our sharp turn, has tumbled off the back of the jet ski, disappearing into the warm Hawaiian waters. Panic grips me, and I slam on the brakes, the vehicle coming to a halt.
I turn around, my heart racing, and spot Avery resurfacing; her wet hair clings to her face. Her expression is a mix of surprise and indignation as she treads water, her eyes locking onto mine.
“Austin!” she calls out, her voice laced with irritation.
“Oops,” I mutter sheepishly, trying to conceal a grin. “Sorry about that.”
“You could've warned me,” she scolds, but there's a hint of amusement in her tone as she wades in the water.
Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I spot a disturbance in the water. A shadow, dark and ominous, gliding beneath the surface. Panic surges through me as I realize what it is — a shark, swift and deadly.
Without a second thought, I veer my jet ski toward Avery; her legs are dangling in the water. She is unaware of the danger lurking beneath. Time slows as I jump off and plunge into the sea.
I swim swiftly under the warm water until I reach Avery. When I come to the surface, I see terror in her eyes as she realizes the danger we are in. I reach out and grab her waist as she puts her arm around my neck. I can feel the adrenaline pumping as I swim. I feel her trembling body as we swim back to the jet ski.
We reach it. I push her on the back and then scramble up. I quickly start the engine, gasping for air. She wraps her arms around me tighter than ever. I feel her heartbeat starting to slow down. As I push the throttle, we speed away from the dark predator. Avery clings to me, her body trembling, as we put distance between us and the ocean menace. The beach comes into view, and relief washes over us as we finally reach the safety of the shore.
We're safe, but our bodies are still quivering, drenched in a mixture of seawater and adrenaline. In this moment, as we both catch our breaths, we embrace. I realize that something has changed between us. The ocean has brought us closer together, forging a bond neither of us could have anticipated.
Avery
“So, what did you think of this one?”
I look up at Sarah as she adjusts her sweater. Her distinctive red hair frames her pale face as she holds up the novel we’ve been reading together over the last few weeks.
I give my best friend a smile and say, “It's...well, classic Eleanor Sterling. As usual, a whirlwind of romance and clichés.”
Sarah chuckles, her glasses perched low on her nose as she leans back in her chair. “That's why we love her, isn't it? Her books are like a guilty pleasure. Cheesy romance at its finest.”
As she talks, I allow my eyes to roam the private library. The area is a haven of comfort and intellect. Shelves line the walls, filled with well-loved books that have seen many discussions like this one. The wooden bookcases, aged and slightly weathered, impart a sense of history and wisdom to the space. A plush armchair in one corner invites readers to lose themselves in the written word, while a large, ornate rug sprawled beneath the table absorbs the footsteps and whispers of our fellow book club members.
After a moment of reflection, I answer, “You're right, Sarah. They might be cheesy, but they always manage to warm the heart. It's like indulging in a pint of your favorite ice cream.”
Sarah agrees, and we dive into a discussion about the latest plot twists, the hunky hero, and the damsel in distress. Eleanor Sterling's world of love and passion always ignites spirited conversations.
After a while, Sarah lets her copy of the novel fall from her hands. It lands purposefully onto the nearby end table. She crosses her legs and gets into a more relaxed position before saying, “Whew! It’s been a long day. After restocking the shelves, scanning barcodes, and telling teenagers to hush all day…life as a librarian can be exhausting.”
I grin, allowing myself to relax, too. “Right,” I agree. “I’m sure that even the Dewey decimal system sounds like torture after a while.”
Sarah laughs. “You have no idea. I’m ready to leave.”
Amid silence that follows, I steal a quick glance at the decorative mirror across the room, intrigued by the way the room's warm lighting plays with my appearance. My reflection reveals a woman with a sense of quiet determination.
My brown hair, highlighted by subtle streaks of auburn, cascades around my shoulders. It's neatly styled, framing my face and highlighting the green of my eyes. Those eyes, flecked with hints of gold, often mirror my curiosity and a touch of vulnerability.
I have a soft smattering of freckles across my nose and cheeks, a remnant of the carefree days of my youth. They give my fair complexion a unique charm, and I've grown to appreciate them over the years.
In the mirror, I see a wistful smile tugging at the corners of my lips, reflecting the fondness I hold for the literary discussions that Sarah and I so frequently enjoy.
“So, how’s life over at MegaScope?” Sarah’s voice breaks my gaze from the mirror as she references the publishing house where I work.
Worked. I repeat the word to myself, giving my brain another reminder that it’s now past tense. For a moment, I consider keeping that fact from Sarah, hiding the truth for only a little bit longer…just a little bit. I know that it would be silly to hide it from my best friend, who knows everything about me and can read me as quickly as she reads an Eleanor Sterling novels.
A heavy sigh escapes my lips, and the words spill out before I can stop them. “I lost my job, Sarah,” I admit, my voice carrying a tinge of resignation. “They had to make cuts, and I was one of the casualties.”
Sarah, ever perceptive and empathetic, fixes her kind gaze on me. “Oh, Avery, that must be really tough,” she says softly, her voice laced with sympathy. “Especially after everything you've been through with the divorce.”
Oh, yes, I think, the divorce. As if losing my job isn’t enough, the divorce is icing on the cake. My mind drifts back to the past, to the moments that led to my divorce from Bill. It's a painful memory, but one I can't escape.
I remember the countless evenings when I'd sit alone at the dining table, my dinner growing cold, while Bill was lost in the world of his
Our connection had dwindled over the years, and the spark that once ignited our love had dimmed. Bill had become more and more distant, his attention focused on anything but our relationship. I felt like I was living in the shadow of his priorities, overshadowed by his career and other distractions.
I'd tried to talk to him, to express my longing for more quality time together, but it was as if my words fell on deaf ears. He'd promise to change and be more attentive, but those promises rarely materialized. It became clear that we were living separate lives under the same roof.
The realization that we were drifting apart took a toll on me emotionally. I felt lonely, unfulfilled, and often invisible in my own marriage. The disconnection between us was painful, and it ultimately led to my decision to leave.
As much as I find solace in the pages of Eleanor Sterling's stories, I can't help but reflect on my own story…the one that led to the end of my marriage to Bill and the end of my job at MegaScope. It's a chapter in my life that left scars, but I'm determined to turn the page and seek a happier, more fulfilling future.
After thinking for a few moments, I offer a small, grateful smile in response to Sarah’s understanding. Her support means the world to me, and it's comforting to know that I have a friend who truly comprehends the weight of my recent challenges.
“Yeah,” I reply, my voice tinged with a mix of resignation and determination. “It's been a rollercoaster, to say the least. But I'm trying to see it as an opportunity for something new, even though it's a bit scary.”
Sarah nods. I can see the reassuring warmth in her eyes. Just then, the door creaks open, and an older woman with gray hair pops her head into the room.
“Sarah,” the woman begins, her voice carrying a touch of urgency, “could you spare a moment? We have a customer who needs assistance with the computer system.”
Sarah gives me an apologetic look and rises from her chair. “Of course, Eleanor,” she replies, setting her book aside. “I'll be right there.”
When Eleanor disappears, Sarah sighs. She turns to me and says, “I’m sorry, work calls.”
I shrug. “It’s alright.”
She puts a hand on my knee and asks, “Are you gonna be alright?”
To be honest, I don’t know. But, I admit, I will have to figure life out, one way or another.
“Yeah,” I tell Sarah with an assured voice, “I’ll survive.”
“Alright, well, I have to get going then,” Sarah repeats as she rises from her seat.
I offer a warm smile and a reassuring nod. “It's just fine, Sarah. Besides, I should be heading home soon anyway.”
Sarah's eyes reflect gratitude for my understanding as we gather our belongings. Before we say goodbye, however, my phone rings. Curious, I pull my cell from my pocket and look at the screen.
Clicking my tongue, I tell Sarah, “It’s Polly.”
Sarah gives me a knowing smile. “Uh oh,” she jokes. “Say hello to more wedding talk.”
I roll my eyes as I accept the call, knowing that the conversation will be exactly that.
When the call connects, the familiar voice on the other line immediately says, “Hey! Avery, did you get the latest potential DJ list?”
Ever since my sister got engaged, her entire life has become nothing but cake flavors, flower arrangements, and guest lists.
Based on Polly’s greeting line, I think comically, apparently, so has my life.
“I did, but I haven’t read it yet,” I admit, making a face at Sarah as she listens in with amused curiosity.
“You need to!” Polly responds, her voice raising with urgency. “The wedding is coming up. Are you ready?”
I chuckle. “As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose. But I have a feeling it's going to be quite an adventure.”
Polly lets out a mischievous laugh. “Oh, you have no idea, sis. By the way, I've got some news.”
Oh, no, I think, here we go.
“What news, Polly?” I ask, my voice filled with dread
There's a pause on the line, and then she blurts out with glee, “John's old college buddy, Chris, is going to be at the wedding. You remember Chris, right? Tall, dark hair, and that charming smile? He always had a thing for you.”
A chuckle escapes my lips as I recall the memory of Chris from years ago. We met once in a coffee shop, and exchanged numbers, but…. “We never hit it off,” I remind my sister.
“So?” she responds. “Magical things can happen at weddings…”
I roll my eyes.
“But that was a lifetime ago, Polly,” I say. Sarah and I exchange glances. She knows as well as I do that my sister has been trying to set me up with someone ever since my divorce papers from Bill were filed.
Polly's voice turns conspiratorial. “Well, he's single now, and I've got a feeling he might try to rekindle an old flame.”
“Polly, don't get your hopes up,” I warn. “I don’t need to be set up…”
She interrupts me with a harsh, “Well, I don't want to hear any excuses. You have to have a date for the wedding.”
I raise an eyebrow, taken aback by her sudden insistence. “Polly, you know I'm not seeing anyone right now, and that's perfectly fine.”
Polly's tone remains firm. “I get it, but I don't want you to feel out of place. Everyone's going to be there with their partners, and I don't want you to be the odd one out,” she adds, quieter. “And, I want an even number of people in my wedding photos.”
I let out a sigh, realizing that arguing with Polly can be futile. “Polly, it's really not a big deal. I'll be fine going solo.”
Polly's voice softens a bit. “I know. I just want you to have the best experience at my wedding. You deserve to enjoy it. Can you at least think about it? I won’t take no for an answer.”
I watch as Sarah begins to make moves toward the door, ready to meet with Eleanor.
“Look, I’ll talk to you soon, Polly,” I say hastily into the receiver. “Don't worry about me, okay? It's your big day, and I'm excited to be there to celebrate with you.”
Polly's voice softens, and she offers, “Thanks, Avery. Love you.”
“Love you too, Polly,” I reply with a warm smile.
After talking with my sister, I feel a wave of exhaustion wash over me. She is a lot, with a big personality, and she always takes it out of me with every conversation.
Sarah leans in and gives me a half-hug as we leave the room together. It’s a welcome, comforting gesture.
“I get it, Avery,” she tells me. “Weddings can be a lot of work. But you know, maybe there's a way to make things a bit easier for you.”
I look at her, curious about what she's suggesting, as we move through the library. “What do you mean?”
We round a bend and move through rows of encyclopedias before entering the lobby.
With a hint of mischief in her eyes, Sarah proposes, “What if you take a fake boyfriend to the wedding?”
I stop in my tracks. A fake boyfriend? I repeat to myself.
I raise an eyebrow, initially dismissing the idea. “A fake boyfriend? Come on, Sarah, that's a bit drastic, don't you think?”
As I stand there, library customers milling about, my mind starts to wander. I tilt my head, contemplating the idea. “A fake boyfriend, huh? It does sound drastic, but it could also be kind of fun. Plus, it might help take some of the pressure from Polly. What made you think of this, Sarah?”
Sarah grins mischievously. “Well, you know those cheesy romance novels we've been reading for book club? I was thinking, why not create a little drama and excitement in real life? It could be like a romantic subplot in one of those books, don't you think?”
Her enthusiasm is infectious, and I can't help but chuckle. “You've got a point, Sarah. It would definitely add some intrigue to the whole event. But where do I even find a fake boyfriend on such short notice?”
“Oh, Sarah?” I hear Eleanor’s familiar voice call from across the otherwise quiet library. “About that computer help…”
Without wasting a moment, Sarah gives me an apologetic look and hastily gives me a hug before turning away.
