Pitcher Perfect, page 25
“Okay,” she whispered. “Um . . .”
“Look.” Eve shoved the phone back into her purse. “Everyone has a past. You have to trust your own judgment of him.”
“Yeah,” Skylar forced past dry lips, her ears and face and throat on fire. “Thanks for showing me.”
Eve started to respond, but the kids bounded over like matching whirlwinds, throwing themselves onto Eve, even as Vivica jogged in their wake shrieking for them to wash their hands before they touched anything. Before Skylar could rouse herself from what felt suspiciously like heartbreak to help her friend, Madden was there, plucking Landon off Eve, holding the child stiffly for a moment with his legs dangling, then settling him onto his feet with an awkward head pat. “Do you need help with . . . anything?” he asked Eve.
Why did she look so thrown by the simple question?
Was Skylar missing something? Had Eve’s disagreement with Madden continued without her being aware of it?
“No, we’re fine, actually. Better than fine.” Holding Lark in her arms, Eve stood up, stooping with some difficulty, bending her knees to clutch her purse with a hand that was already semioccupied. “But it is getting late, so I think we’ll head out.” She hustled Landon toward the door, nodding as he whined to be carried like his sister. “Thank you, Doug. Thank you, Viv.” On her way out the door, she looked back at Skylar with undisguised regret. “Skylar . . . call me, okay?”
“Yeah,” Skylar creaked. “Love you.”
“Love you.”
Activity took place around Skylar after that, but she was only partially aware of voices and movement. Dishes being dried. Art supplies being cleaned up. Madden pacing and looking out the window. Elton reading off dating profiles out loud to get Vivica’s opinion. And Skylar just sat there, unable to feel her legs.
Am I getting played?
What am I doing?
If Robbie was there right now, she’d probably be reassured, but he wasn’t. All she could see were those incredibly confident women on his lap, and the insecurities she’d made great headway in overcoming the last week started to bleed back in. If those women hadn’t stood a chance with Robbie, how could she?
“Skylar,” a deep voice prompted. In a way that suggested they’d been trying to get her attention for a while. Madden. He’d sat down on the coffee table in front of her, his hands clasped loosely between his knees. He tilted his head to search her face, his right knee brushing hers, maybe accidentally? She didn’t know. Didn’t know up from down in that moment. Only that she desperately needed a grounding presence and Madden was there now, taking up space. “I was wondering if . . . you want to get a drink with me.”
Her first instinct was to laugh.
Really.
Really?
She’d carried a torch for this man since high school and he’d never done more than humor her, treat her like a kid. One he cared about, but still. Now that she was over him, he finally asked her out? The irony sucked on top of everything else. It was too much, but . . . maybe that’s what she needed. Too much. To be overwhelmed and distracted and dammit, she refused to sit there in a pathetic fog of inadequacy and doubt, waiting for a man who up until very recently was throwing whipped cream bikini parties. And suddenly, she was dissecting everything he’d said about his last trip to Boston, putting together timelines and . . . holy shit. Was she setting herself up for this kind of constant worry?
No. Hell no.
“Yeah. I’ll go get a drink, Madden. Sure.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Robbie sang at the top of his lungs to “Freak,” by Doja Cat, even though he was in gridlock traffic and people in the surrounding cars were openly watching him, probably even taking pictures, if they recognized him. Robbie didn’t care. He was in love. Even the I-95 traffic couldn’t penetrate the golden glaze that coated him like frosting on a donut.
When the song ended, he reached into the bag Skylar packed him and took out the sandwich, unwrapping it and consuming half of it with one bite. “She even makes good sandwiches,” he shouted around a full mouth. “I’m going to marry her.” He honked at a middle-aged man in the Nissan to his right, leaning his head out the window. “I’m going to marry Skylar Page.”
Dude tapped his horn. “Good luck.”
“Thank you.” He swallowed the rest of the sandwich without chewing, then regretted it, because he only had one Skylar sandwich in the car. “Dang.”
His phone rang where it sat charging in the cupholder.
Robbie picked up the device and looked at the screen. “Hauer again? Come on.” He answered. “What’s up, Hauer?”
“Corrigan. Sorry for the last-minute scramble. Practice is off.”
“What? I just drove from Rhode Island.”
“Yeah. Apologies. All this rain, there’s some issue with a leak at the arena. It’s not even near the ice, but there’s some liability bullshit that says we can’t be in-house while they’re making repairs.”
Hope and anticipation sparked. “Does this mean I can go back to Rhode Island?”
“Yes, but stand by for a possible practice tomorrow.”
“Ten-four, Hauer. Over and out.”
Robbie had barely ended the call when he started looking for the fastest way to turn around. To get back to her. He almost sideswiped a minivan in his haste to reach the exit ramp, already imagining the softness of sleepy Skylar beneath him when he crawled into bed with her. How she’d snuggle into him in those flannel sheets and breathe against his throat. God, he never wanted to sleep any other way. He should stop and get flowers or something. No, forget flowers. He’d buy her some of those gel pens for her planner. They carried those at gas stations, right?
He stuck a hand out the window, a silent plea to be allowed to cut in front of a truck in his quest to get off the freeway. “Excuse me. Thank you,” he called to a driver in the next lane. Over and over until he was finally free of the traffic and free to loop back in the opposite direction. Toward Skylar. The only direction he knew anymore.
Skylar had made a huge mistake.
Upon climbing into the passenger side of Madden’s truck, her heart lurched.
She tried to remind herself about what she’d seen on the website. How many women Robbie had probably made feel insignificant when they were anything but. He hadn’t even taken the time to learn their names or see them as anything but bodies. She didn’t doubt that he had serious romantic feelings for her. He did. But could a man go from having so much freedom to sow his oats to . . . sowing them with one person?
Logic told her that was unrealistic.
Her chest told her yes. Yes, he could. He had. When they were in each other’s arms or looking each other in the eye, she had full faith. In remembering how perfectly her soul felt complete around Robbie, she felt sick as Madden slowed to a stop at the first stoplight on the way into town. To her left was the deli where she’d gotten sandwiches with Robbie. The sidewalk where he’d held her hand, made her feel protected and special.
He makes me feel so special.
“Is the air on too high? You’re shivering,” Madden pointed out.
“No, I’m fine, I just . . .” She couldn’t deny the sudden urge to bring Robbie into the conversation somehow. To make him present. “Just wondering if Robbie made it to Boston yet.”
Madden was silent while accelerating through the intersection. “Do you want to call him and ask?”
While I’m on my way to have a drink with another man? Probably the only man who could cause Robbie to feel insecure?
Wasn’t that the point?
Nausea roiled in Skylar’s stomach. “No, it’s fine. I’ll call him later.”
Madden said nothing for the rest of the drive, his silence doing nothing to decrease her nerves. After they reached the lot of the bar and he parked, he circled around the back bumper and opened the door for her, holding out his hand to help her down. There was no tingle, no leap of her pulse when her fingers slid into his palm, when he gripped her hand. There was nothing. Not that she’d expected there to be electricity. Not anymore. But the total lack of anything resembling attraction only brought home the fact that she’d come on this date for some kind of vindication. And she hated herself for it.
“Madden, I think I have to go. Can you take me home?”
His brow furrowed. “Is everything okay?”
“I just . . . I don’t think I should be on a date with you when I’m supposed to be with Robbie.” Skylar squeezed her eyes shut. “No, not supposed to be. We are. I decided to trust him and I let my insecurities get the better of me at the first whiff of doubt and he deserves better than that. He really does.”
Madden’s energy slowly shifted into what could only be described as rigid discomfort. “Skylar, I think maybe you got the wrong idea about this. It’s not a date.” He stared off down the row of cars, visibly searching for the correct words. “You’re a wonderful girl. The best. But I think of you as . . . family, I suppose.” He shifted right to left and crossed his arms over his middle. “This is about Eve.” His blue eyes lifted to meet hers. “To me, everything . . . is about Eve.”
Clarity was a bitch.
Her confusion gave way within seconds, parting like dark storm clouds to reveal the brightest clear blue sky imaginable, a sun glaring at her from the very center.
Madden was in love with Eve.
Suddenly the way they looked at each other had new meaning. The way they’d looked at each other since high school. Which meant Skylar had been in love with a man who was in love with her best friend. For years.
Skylar held her stomach to keep it from imploding. Not out of jealousy or sadness or anything like that. She simply couldn’t accept such stupidity from herself. Such a glaring lack of awareness. “Oh my God.”
“You didn’t know?” Briefly, he ducked his head. “I thought I was being so obvious.”
“Not to me.” Skylar marveled over the fact that in the space of a few minutes, Madden had gone from unwanted date to a man clearly lovesick for someone else. It hurt in a way she couldn’t have expected, because she knew what he was experiencing, she’d been there herself, and unrequited love equaled agony. Although her technicolor feelings for Robbie made her wonder if she’d ever truly been in love with Madden in the first place. “Have you told Eve how you feel?”
“She’d have to let me close enough first.” His throat moved with a swallow. “She runs from me.”
“Why?”
“If I had the answer to that, I’d do something about it.” He paused for a good ten seconds, his tongue tucked into his cheek as if he was working up to something. “The reason I brought you here is to ask for your help. Eve has these two children in her care now and she’s struggling to keep the club. The health insurance alone for three people . . .” He shook his head. “If she took my name, they’d have it for free. My contract with the Yankees isn’t on par with some of the more established catchers, Skylar, but it’s a damn good beginning. I could help her. I could provide for her. For them.”
Skylar took a moment to process all that, suddenly feeling very young in the face of the gigantic problems facing two people she cared about deeply. And very silly for going out with Madden for a selfish and immature reason when she should have just talked to Robbie about what was bothering her and resolved it like an adult. “I’ll talk to her for you, if that’s what you want.”
Madden tipped his head forward on an exhale. “Thank you, Skylar. God knows she won’t talk to me these days.” After a beat, he nodded at the car. “Should I take you home now so you can give your fella a call?”
“Yes.” Relief permeated her blood. “Yes, please.”
Skylar assumed everything would be fine. They were home in a matter of ten minutes and she already had the evening mapped out. Shower, get into her pajamas, and spend some quality time with her planner while she waited for Robbie’s practice to be over. Then she’d call him and hear his voice and set about forgiving herself for slipping up.
But the night ended much differently, because when Madden pulled them into the driveway, Robbie was waiting for her on the porch steps.
Chapter Thirty
In a way, I deserve this, don’t I?
That was Robbie’s first thought upon seeing Madden and Skylar come down the driveway in Madden’s truck, the fact that they went out together confirmed by his own eyes. When he’d arrived after a surprisingly traffic-free drive back to Rhode Island, he’d found Doug and Vivica in the living room watching Under the Tuscan Sun.
“Robbie, you’re back,” Doug had called, sitting forward with a glass of white wine cradled in his hands. “What happened to practice?”
“It got canceled because of some leak at the arena.” He’d jerked his chin toward the back bedroom. “I’m going to see Skylar.”
“Oh. She . . .” Vivica had looked at her husband. “She went out for a drink with Madden a little while ago.”
At that point, Robbie’s stomach had turned to fucking lead. “Just Madden?”
Vivica must have sensed the storm brewing inside of him because she laughed and tried to make light of the situation. “Just having a friendly chat, I’m sure.”
Maybe.
Yeah. Maybe that was true or maybe Vivica was wrong and they hadn’t gone alone. They could have met some old friends. There were a million possible explanations, but none of them stopped this ugly, oily jealousy and panic from bubbling in his gut. And now, when he saw her sitting in the driveway in Madden’s truck, the sensation amplified itself until he felt ill. Because Skylar didn’t look happy to see him. Nah, she looked guilty. Like she’d gotten caught.
Robbie tried to make his legs work when she hopped out of the truck, but he couldn’t, so he just remained stuck, staring at her. Waiting to find out what could put that expression on her face.
“Hey,” Skylar said, sounding winded, swiping her palms on the legs of her jeans. Observing him through owl eyes. “You’re here.” She attempted a smile and couldn’t hold on to it, spreading the panic inside of him. “Practice didn’t happen?”
“There’s a leak,” he responded, lips stiff.
“Oh.”
He swallowed a fistful of gravel. “What is this? A date?”
“No,” she breathed, waving a hand. “Not at all.”
“Then why do you look like you want to cry?”
Skylar didn’t answer.
Several moments ticked by, the silence broken when Madden stepped out of the vehicle—and Robbie had never wanted to kick someone’s ass so badly in his life. As a hockey player, that was saying something. Ironically, he wanted to kick Madden’s ass for being too blind to realize Skylar was perfect, while he also wanted to kick his ass for noticing. Oh yeah, the latter way more than the former. “Robbie, I can see you’re upset, but there’s no reason to be.” Madden scrubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sure Skylar will explain it to you, but this was only meant to be a drink between friends.”
“You can get back in your truck now,” Robbie managed to say despite the manacle around his throat. “And I’d suggest you drive away fast.”
Skylar’s expression was one of shocked reproof. “Robbie.”
Robbie pointed at Madden. “You fucking heard me.”
Madden held his ground. Robbie would give him that. The guy probably would have been a decent fight, too, but the Irishman chose to diffuse the situation by finally getting back in his truck and backing down the driveway, although not as fast as Robbie would have liked.
“Why do you look like you’re going to cry?” he asked Skylar again.
“Because. I know how I would feel if I saw you out with a girl you used to love. I know it would probably feel terrible.”
“It does.”
She closed her eyes. “We didn’t even have a drink. We only made it to the parking lot and I asked him to bring me home.”
“Why?”
“I felt guilty.”
“If it was just a drink with a friend, why did you feel guilty?” A seven-hundred-pound weight sat on his chest. “Were you curious to see if your feelings were really gone?”
“No. I know they’re gone. They were never even as deep as I thought they were.”
“Then I’m still in the dark, Skylar. Why do you feel guilty?”
“Because I saw . . .” She took a long, shuddering breath. “Eve googled you and this website came up that she showed me. It has details, like really specific details about you a-and women you’ve been with. There are pictures of you and you look so happy like that. It just blindsided me.”
This was his first time hearing about a website with pictures and intimate information on it that pertained to him, and his first thought was Time to grow up and get a good lawyer, bro, but he’d worry about that later. Right now, he was quite simply sick to his stomach just speculating on what Skylar might have seen or read. God, that must have been hard for her. If the shoe were on the other foot, that kind of imagery would kill him. At the same time, he couldn’t change the past.
Maybe he’d been naive to try to change her mind about him in the first place.
His actions and words were all he had—and they obviously weren’t enough. “I’m sorry you saw that,” he rasped, in a tremendous understatement. “But I can’t change the things I did before I met you.”
She took a step forward and stopped, her tone sincere when she said, “Of course not. And I wouldn’t want to change any part of what made you this Robbie. I fell for that Robbie.”
He only half heard that statement, because the pieces that formed tonight were coming together. “And yet you saw this website and decided to go out with Madden, anyway. Was that to spite me, Skylar?”
