The Perfect Game (The Perfect Game #1)

My finger tore through the thick sealed paper before pulling out the small note folded over once.

Kitten,

Open your front door.

My head spun around and my mouth opened as I eyed my front door, unsure of what would be behind it. I hopped off the couch, turned the knob, and pulled it open.

“Oh my God.”

Jack stood outside my door carrying a dozen red roses. It was only once he lowered his arms that I could see the uniform he was wearing. The word Mets was written across an all-white jersey with dark blue and orange lettering. It reminded me of his old uniform from college and my mind instantly flashed back to seeing him on the mound. “Why are you wearing a Mets jersey?”

“I got traded.” The sound of his voice melted through my every pore like butter, instantly sending me back in time.

“They traded you?” I managed to ask through my surprise.

“Well, technically,” he said, his trademark dimples flashing, “I asked.”

“You asked what?”

“I asked to be traded to the Mets.” He looked down at his feet.

I rapped my knuckles against the manager’s glass door. He looked up from his computer. “Come in.” He motioned with his hand before glaring at me. “What’s up, Carter?”

“Well, um, I know this is really unorthodox but I was wondering if I could get traded, sir,” I asked him nervously. My agents were going to kill me when they heard what I was attempting to do.

“Why the hell do you want to go and do that?” he snapped as the irritation spread across his face.

“It’s just that I love this sport and I want to play. But there’s a girl I love too. And the only way I can have both is if I move.”

I sound like a total pussy.

He is going to ream me for this.

He dug out a pencil from the mess on his desk and twirled it around in his fingers while he thought a moment, before he used it to point at me. “So you’re telling me that you want me to put you up for the eligible trade options because you need to be closer to some girl?”

“She’s not just some girl, sir. And I know it sounds bad, but I need this. If it’s possible, I need this. And if it’s not, just tell me. I won’t ask you again. But I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least ask.”

“Son, you realize that you can live with this girl during the off-season, right? That’s three, sometimes four months.”

“That’s not enough time,” I responded respectfully.

“Where’s this special girl live?” He tapped the pencil against his desk in an irritated rat-a-tat.

“New York.”

“Hell! We’re in New York a couple times a season. And Florida and Boston aren’t far!” He stopped and glared at me. “And you’re telling me you’d like me to trade you to New York? You know after your contract expires, they won’t have the budget to pay you like we have?” He threw the pencil down on his desk before he stood up to face me with his hands on his hips.

“With all due respect, sir, it’s not about the money.”

“So you live here now?” My eyes widened.

“Just got in. Can I come in?”

“Of course. Yes.” I stumbled as I moved aside, and gestured for him to come in.

“These are for you.” He pushed the roses toward me.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful,” I replied, sniffing at them before moving to put them on the counter in the kitchen.

He looked around my apartment, taking in the details, then focused on the pile of things he had sent.

“I see you got my gifts.” He motioned toward the couch.

“Mm-hmmm,” I mumbled, still in shock that he was actually here.

“Cassie.” He moved his body close to mine and ran his fingers through my hair, tucking pieces behind my ear. I scanned the scruff on his face, the black of his hair, the chocolate color of his eyes, before reaching out to touch him.

“Do you still love me?” he asked, his eyes unsure.

“I never stopped,” I admitted breathlessly.

“Me either.” He grabbed the back of my neck and pulled his mouth to mine. His tongue caressed mine with slow, deliberate movements, and if I could have turned to liquid and dissolved into his arms, I would have.

He pulled away, his hand still caressing my neck. “I’m sorry for lying to you that morning. I’m sorry for cheating on you that night. I’m sorry for not being the person you knew I could be.” He leaned in, his mouth sucking lightly on my bottom lip before kissing me again. “And I don’t know if you can ever forgive me, but I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t at least ask you to try.

“And I’m sorry it took me so long to get here. She was fighting the annulment and it took months to get it processed and finalized. I refused to come fight for you while I was still carrying that baggage. But it took a lot longer than I had expected. I should have called you. And I’m sorry I didn’t.”

“I thought you hated me,” I whispered. Unable to look at him, I dropped my gaze to his chest.

He reached for my chin before tilting my head up, forcing me to meet his eyes. “I could never hate you. I thought I was going to have to come before the annulment was complete when I’d heard about you and the guy from your work.”

“How’d you know who he was?”

“Dean. I kept tabs on you, Kitten. Not in a creepy way, I swear. Just in a making-sure-I-wasn’t-going-to-lose-you-all-over-again way. See, you’ve always been able to see past the front I put up. I never thought I’d be able to find someone who would know the real me and still want to stick around. And then I saw you at that frat party and my life was never the same.”

A tear ran slowly down my cheek as he continued. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I need you.” He finished talking and wiped the tear from my cheek with his thumb, his touch reminding me how much I’ve missed it.

“I need you too. I hate feeling vulnerable and I want to pretend like I don’t, but it would be a lie,” I said with a half smile.

“Then don’t pretend. Tell me you’ll try to forgive me so we can move on from our past.”

“I already have,” I admitted, and felt the weight of trying to be strong for so long drop away from me. I felt lighter and freer than I had in a very long time.

Jack leaned his forehead against mine. “I’ll earn your trust again. I promise.”

I leaned into him, burying my head into his shoulders as I wrapped my arms around him. I smiled into his neck, and snuggled closer as I closed my eyes with happiness. Then I lifted my mouth to his ear and breathed two little words.

“Prove it.”

EPILOGUE

One Year Later

Jack walked into our apartment while I cooked dinner. He’d just gotten back from an away game, and his stuff was scattered in every direction, making the living room look like a bomb had gone off. “You’re such a slob. At least throw your crap in the bedroom where it belongs,” I teased from behind the stove.

“I’ll throw you in the bedroom where you belong,” he sassed, his dimples appearing on his tanned cheeks.

He’d moved in that night when he first arrived in New York last year, refusing to leave me ever again and I didn’t object, even though his presence made my already cramped apartment even smaller. With two incomes, we were soon able to afford to move into a nicer apartment in Sutton Place, not far from Central Park on the east side of the city. My commute to work became longer, but it was worth it to live in this gorgeous place with him. Our view consisted of the Upper East Side and we spent our evenings on the balcony as often as we could.

Jack took it as a sign when they offered us a two-bedroom apartment on the twenty-third floor. “It’s my number, babe. We’ve gotta take it!” And after we toured the place, admiring its granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, and marble bathrooms, I couldn’t agree more. The fact that it had a fitness center and a pool was just an added perk. I also felt safe living here, what with the twenty-four-hour doorman and the front lobby concierge.

Jack traveled frequently with the team and I was often away on assignment for work, so the security of our apartment while we were out of town or if I was home alone gave us both much-needed peace of mind. Not to mention the fact that Jack was a Mets player now, which made him a local celebrity in New York. Fans had tried to sneak into our place on more than one occasion. We found it necessary to give our doormen extra bonuses last Christmas for their efforts.

We loved living in Manhattan, the hustle and craziness unlike anything we’d ever known in Southern California. The people were also completely different. For us, it was a welcome change of pace that suited us for now.

As I stirred the pasta, the sparkle of the diamond shining from my left hand caught my eye. I glanced down at it with a smile. The three-carat round diamond mounted on a diamond-encrusted band practically took up my entire finger, but I didn’t mind. It was the most beautiful ring I’d ever seen and more than I’d ever dreamed of.

We hadn’t set a date yet, what with Jack’s limited time off between the season ending and spring training, plus my assignments that seemed to pop up without warning. I didn’t mind, though. For now, it was simply enough just to be together and know where our future was headed. Especially after living through the time when I thought our relationship was dead and buried, with no chance for resuscitation. If we could get through that, we were certain we could get through anything.

“I picked up my mess. Happy?” Jack walked up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, then dropped a kiss on my neck.

“Yes. Thank you.” I turned, his lips moving to mine with a passionate fire we’d yet to put out.

“I’m tired of waiting to make you Mrs. Carter.” He grabbed my left hand and kissed the top of my ring finger. “Marry me tomorrow.”

“You’re crazy.” I laughed, pulling my hand from his lips.

“I’m serious.” His brown eyes narrowed with his smile.

“If I can wait for a real wedding with all of our friends and family, then you can too.” I kissed his nose before turning back to the bubbling water.

“Fine. But I’m just going to tell everyone you’re my wife, whether it’s official or not.” He pressed his body against my back.

“You’re so weird.”

“You’re the weird one. What kind of girl can just wait patiently to get married?” he whispered into my ear, nibbling on my lobe before chills raced through me and I shoved him away.

“The kind of girl who doesn’t need to a piece of paper to tell her how to feel. The kind who knows that being married won’t change anything between us.” I turned again, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him close. “I’m the kind of girl who wants to share our special day with everyone who’s important to us. They deserve it. It’s not like we’ve made it on easy on them.”

He exhaled through his nose. “You’re right. Plus, Gran and Gramps would kill us if we eloped.”