“ARE you getting married before the baby?” Penny asks. “If that’s too nosy, just tell me.”
Bex laughs slightly as she peers into the stove, checking on the roast chicken that she has going. “We are, yeah. James insisted. I wouldn’t have cared, but he wants to make sure we square away everything before the baby comes.”
I have to keep myself from staring too openly at her beautiful kitchen. I might not know what to do with them, but I recognize high-end when I see it, and this kitchen has it in spades. The cabinets are a deep blue, and the countertops are sparkling white, and the appliances are all spotless stainless steel. A colorful tile pattern behind the massive range gives the space another pop of color, and a set of copper pans hangs on the wall like an art display.
I wonder if Sebastian has cooked in here yet. He offered to help her, but she insisted that he stay in the living room and catch up with James. Penny and I ended up in the kitchen with her instead, and it’s been nice, chatting with her. Our schedules didn’t overlap much at The Purple Kettle, but she seemed fun at Cooper’s birthday party. Now that I’m getting to know her a bit more, I can see why Penny speaks so highly of her. She’s funny and gorgeous and fits in with the Callahans just as well as Penny does.
I take another sip of my drink, trying to keep the scowl off my face. This is so different from my family’s kitchen, I could laugh. I’m so exhausted, it feels like today happened in another lifetime. Compared to that chaos, this is neat and perfect. A roast chicken with potatoes and salad. Moscow mules and a cheese plate straight out of Whole Foods.
Penny swings her feet as she finishes up her Moscow mule. “That makes sense.”
“We’re planning something small, probably for August,” she says. “After training camp but before the season starts would be ideal. He’s going to ask Richard and Sandra if we can have it at the house.”
“I’m sure they’ll say yes,” Penny says. “You’re going to make a beautiful bride.”
She snorts as she pulls lettuce out of the fridge. “I’ll be something.”
“You’ll look perfect. Right, Mia?”
I nod, trying for what I hope is a natural-enough smile. I wish I had Kiwi to distract myself with, but he stayed in the living room. “You’ll be stunning.”
She smiles at us. “You’re both so sweet.”
“I’m not sure what kind of wedding I’ll want,” Penny says. “Part of me wants to have it in Arizona. Cooper loved it there as much as me.”
“Have you talked about it?” Bex asks. She throws the lettuce mix into the bowl, then washes the rest of the salad ingredients.
“Let me help,” Penny says, watching as she pulls out an avocado and sunflower seeds as well.
“Same,” I say. “I know enough to chop vegetables, at least.”
“Sebastian would be so proud,” Penny teases. She bumps her hip against mine as she passes me a knife and the cucumbers. “And yeah, we kind of did, but we’re not going to get engaged anytime soon. The tattoos are enough for us right now.”
“Yes!” Bex says. “Wait, show me. I know I saw the picture, but I’m sure it’s even prettier in person.”
I appreciate that Penny is trying to keep things light, but honestly, it’s just making me feel worse. I don’t particularly want to hear about her perfect relationship with Sebastian’s brother right now. Not when I have Bex’s pregnancy to contend with. It’s not about me and I know that, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt to hear about how much her future mother-in-law will love having a grandbaby when earlier, I told my own mother not to expect that from me.
I watch as Bex exclaims over Penny’s tattoo—her definitive commitment to Cooper, even if it’s not an engagement ring yet—and nearly cut myself with the knife. I hiss, snatching away my hand and gnawing on the inside of my cheek instead.
I’ve been ignoring the future, but right now, it’s staring me in the face.
Does Sebastian expect me to be here a couple years from now? I don’t know.
Does he deserve it? Definitely.
“What about kids?” Bex asks. “Down the line sometime, maybe?”
“For sure,” Penny says. “Cooper is into the idea of it. Although pregnancy sounds super weird. You were really throwing up all the time?”
“Yeah,” Bex says. “There were a couple of days where I couldn’t keep down anything but crackers. James called the doctor three times, he was so freaked out. But then it got better, and now I feel good. The second trimester is apparently a lot easier.”
“My brother’s wife said that as well,” I say. I remember way too much about her first pregnancy, even though I told everyone repeatedly that I didn’t care to learn the details. I love my nephews, but I didn’t need to hear the whole thirty-two-hour labor story.
Thirty. Two. Hours. Twins. Even the thought makes me want to shudder. Something tells me that Bex won’t appreciate it if I tell her that story.
“Aw, that means you’re already an aunt,” Bex says.
I scrape the celery into the salad bowl. “Yeah. I have two nephews, but I think my sister is going to start trying with her husband soon.”
“Imagine getting pregnant on purpose,” Bex says, laughing. “God, I wish I could have a glass of wine right now. Can I open a bottle for you two?”
JAMES AND BEX’S house is incredible—while the chicken finished in the oven, Bex took us on a tour, and judging by the way she spoke about it, she had a lot of fun working with the interior designer—but the rooftop patio is something else. Strategically placed plants give it privacy, but there’s still a stunning view of the city. In one corner, there’s a set of comfortable outdoor chairs and a fire pit, and in another, an area to do yoga and lift weights out in the fresh air. Bex set the roomy table in the center earlier, and it looks beautiful laden with food and a centerpiece of bright, summery flowers. There must be a speaker system, because James turns on a playlist while Bex lights the candles.
“This is so pretty,” Penny says as we pass around the food. “Thank you again for having us.”
The food smells so good, my mouth starts watering the moment it’s on my plate. The crisp salad we helped Bex make, complete with a nice lemon-avocado dressing that I know Sebastian will want the recipe for, juicy roast chicken, and potatoes cooked right in the pan. Sebastian told me all about the wonders of chicken fat the other day, and I swear I’ve never seen him so excited. I felt like I was talking to a nicer, American version of Gordon Ramsey.
“Yeah, Bex, I’m impressed,” Sebastian says. “What’s in the salad dressing? I love the idea of using avocado for creaminess.”
Penny gives me a little smile. “You called it,” she whispers.
I lift one shoulder in a shrug. “He’s so predictable sometimes.”
For a few minutes, Bex and Sebastian chat about cooking, and the rest of us just enjoy the meal. I nurse my glass of wine as I look out at the city lights, coming into focus now that night is falling.
“Hey, everyone,” Sebastian says. “I have an announcement.”
I snap my head up. “Babe?”
“And I’d wait, because I’m excited about the baby and I’m also a little afraid that Bex has a secretly intense pregnant side,” he continues, “but it’s time-sensitive, and I… I want to tell you all now, here, while we’re together in person.”
Oh my God.
“Sebastian,” I say, digging my elbow into his side. “Are you sure…”
“It’s okay,” Bex says. “We don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” James says, although there’s a frown on his face. Hopefully it’s one of concern, not annoyance. “We’re all family here. What’s up? Is everything okay?”
Once the words leave his mouth, he can’t take them back. Right now, his decision to quit baseball only exists to the two of us. Once his family gets involved, it’ll change the equation. However they react, whatever they think of his plan—that’s going to stick in his mind forever. I put my wineglass down, irrationally afraid I’m going to crack it from holding it too tightly.
Maybe I shouldn’t have encouraged it. Maybe he should stick with baseball. Maybe there’s some part of him, even if he doesn’t recognize it, that’s doing this for me, and I’m ruining his life.
My mother is right. He deserves everything, and baseball can give him that. He’s giving up a steady path, however high-pressure it is, for one that’s a lot less certain. He might think he wants this now, but what about five years down the line? What about when I tell him I’m not sure about marriage and kids? What if this decision ends up being a compromise to be with me, when he can do way better anyway?
“It’s about baseball,” he says. He looks around the table, his gaze lingering on me. I try to smile, but my face is frozen. “I’m quitting. I’m going to withdraw from the draft.”
For a moment, no one says anything at all.
“Holy shit,” Cooper says, finally, into the silence. “You’re serious?”
“Yeah.” Sebastian reaches over, taking my hand and squeezing it tightly. “I realized… I can’t do it just because my father wanted it for me, or because it’s always been the expectation. I still love it, and I don’t regret focusing on it for so long, but I don’t want it to be my career.”
“What are you going to do instead?” James says. He doesn’t sound disappointed or upset, just contemplative.
“I’m going to graduate after next semester,” he says. “I have the credits to do it. I want to figure out if the food industry is a good fit for me. I think… I want to be a chef. If I graduate early, I can take some of my inheritance from my parents and travel around, maybe follow Mia to Europe for her study abroad program if she’ll have me. I could even do a cooking program if it makes sense.”
I rip my hand away from his and stand, sending my chair flying backwards. Kiwi startles, darting out from underneath the table.
“Mia?” he asks, his smile fading.
“I’m sorry,” I say. Everyone is staring, and I’m making a fucking scene, just like at the barbecue, but I feel like I’m about to crack into a million pieces, and the last place that can happen is here. “I just—I can’t be here.”
I practically run to the patio door and crash down the stairs. I hear Sebastian following, but I don’t stop until I’m at the door of the room we’re supposed to stay in tonight. I yank it open, and he follows me inside before I shut it.
“What the hell was that about?” he asks.
I whirl on him. “You’re making a huge mistake.”
“What?” The pain on his face cuts me like a knife. “But you said—”
“You really want to give all of this up? You’re not going to have a life like this”—I gesture around the impeccably decorated room of this beautiful house—“if you’re a cook at some restaurant.”
I hate his wounded expression, but I can’t stop. I’m burning up in the atmosphere, and by the time I crash-land, there won’t be anything left. My heart is beating so fast I can hear it in my ears. “You know that I’m not going to compromise on my future because it’s all I’ve ever told you, so you’re compromising on yours instead. You’re taking an easier path for me, and I’m not even worth it.”
“Mia, slow down,” he says. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I don’t want kids,” I snap. “I’ve never wanted them. I don’t even know if I want to get married, Sebastian.”
“Fine,” he says. “So we don’t get married or have kids.”
“Stop doing this!” Tears spill over my cheeks. “I know you. You want those things. Don’t try to lie, I know it.”
He takes a step closer, reaching out like he wants to brush away my tears, but thinks better than to actually try it. “Where the fuck is this coming from? Your family? I don’t give a shit about what they think, Mia. You need to stop letting them in.”
That stops me in my tracks. “They’re my family.”
“You need to cut them off. They’re ruining you.”
“They’re my family!” My voice echoes in the little room, too loud and grating. “Don’t talk shit about my family.”
“Some family they are,” he says, bitter laughter in his voice. “Your brother thinks your sexuality is a joke, your father wants me to control you like you’re a doll, and whatever the fuck happened with your mother is sending you into a spiral so deep I barely recognize you right now. Cut them out. If they don’t want to help you pay for the rest of college, we’ll figure it out.”
“You might’ve been fine throwing your mother’s family away, but I can’t do that.” I take a step back, putting more distance between us. Anger courses through me, as swift and pointed as a snake bite. “And the fact you think that it’s that easy is sad, Sebastian. Not everyone is lucky enough to have two perfect families. Some of us have to stick with the one the universe gave us, no matter how much it hurts.”
He freezes. “I didn’t throw them away. They threw me away. They tossed my mother aside like garbage because she didn’t do what they wanted her to do with her life. You, of all people, should understand that.”
My lip wobbles. I take in a shuddering breath. “That’s not the same thing.”
“Isn’t it?”
“No. You aren’t even trying to—”
“You can’t let them hurt you forever when you deserve so much more,” he interrupts. “Jesus, Mia, come on.”
A sob works its way out of my throat, too sudden for me to stop it. “But I don’t. I don’t. You don’t know that now, but you will. I was selfish, I let myself have you anyway, but it was always going to lead to this.”
“Are you listening to yourself right now? Why are you hurting both of us for no fucking reason?”
He tries to pull me into his arms, his eyes searching mine, but I shrug away. If I let him give me comfort, I’ll be tempted to give in, and I can’t. I should have listened to myself when I broke things off the first time. I shouldn’t have let him pull me in to begin with. That afternoon in the library, that morning in his bedroom, that starry night at the baseball field—none of it should have happened in the first place. “Don’t.”
Something cracks behind his eyes. “Angel, come on.”
“Marriage, kids, someone who fits in with your life—you deserve that, Sebastian. Go back upstairs to your perfect family.” I wipe away the tears roughly. “It would have led here no matter what. I can’t be your angel.”
He kisses me. I can’t help it; I kiss him back. One last time. One more kiss, fleeting in its flawlessness, setting me ablaze even as I fall into the cold embrace of space. He pulls away slowly, his touch a lingering bruise.
“You’re part of that family,” he whispers.
My heart cracks right down the middle. “You don’t understand.”
“You know I don’t give a shit about how my life looks as long as I have you, right?” His voice cracks; he’s holding back tears too.
I shut my eyes, willing myself to think of the future. Better to have it crumble now, instead of after I take his name. One fatal slash across the gut instead of a million tiny cuts that would never heal.
I push him in the direction of the door. “I need to be alone. Please.”
“We’re not finished with this conversation,” he says as he reaches for the doorknob.
I shut the door in his face.
Then I slide to the floor. One sob, then another. I wipe my face and tear a piece of paper from my notebook.
When I’m finished, I pull my phone from my pocket and tiptoe down the stairs.
The Uber pulls to the curb right as I open the front door.
