Pitcher Perfect, page 28
She couldn’t have gotten far, right? She’d still been there at the end of the third period. He’d simply ask her to come back, they’d resolve the remaining divide between them and put a permanent end to this separation. That would be that.
Voicemail.
Fuck.
“Skylar, could you please stop whatever you’re doing and come back here, please? Don’t make me look at you all night and not even kiss me afterward. What the hell is that?”
He hung up, stared at his phone. “RING,” he bellowed.
“Robbie, that was a terrible message.”
“Ma, please, I’m in the middle of a crisis. Did she say where she was going?”
“Don’t you think I would have told you by now?”
“She was asking an awful lot of questions about that kite,” his father drawled, still holding a half-drunk beer in his hand. “Wanted to know directions. Logistics. For chrissakes, Angela, you drew her a map on the back of a bar napkin.”
“The kite?” Robbie stood up slowly, but his legs were starting to tingle. “Why did she want to know all that?”
“When she kissed me goodbye, she said she’d see me on Long Island.” His mother laughed, clearly not grasping the gravity of the situation the way Robbie was beginning to do, his stomach squeezing like a lemon. “Maybe she meant sooner than later.”
He called Skylar again, but this time his hand was shaking.
“Hey, Rocket . . .”
“Honey, he calls her Rocket,” whispered his mother, hands clasped beneath her chin. “How adorable is that?”
“Listen,” Robbie continued, his vision starting to turn an ominous shade of gray. “I know this is a long shot, but you wouldn’t be on the way to Long Island, by any chance? Right? To get a kite down out of a tree? No. Right?” His throat was shrinking down to the size of a cocktail straw. This wasn’t an average person he was speaking to. His girlfriend was highly competitive and well versed in challenges just like this one. She’d absolutely make this attempt. Oh my God. “Because that would be a very bad idea, Skylar. That tree sticks out over the edge of a cliff. A cliff, okay? It’s a big drop with a lot of rocks . . . and I’m suddenly very positive that’s exactly where you’re going. But you can’t. You cannot try and get that kite down, please, because you could get hurt and I won’t . . . I can’t even conceive of that without getting dizzy. If something happens to you, it happens to me. Stop the goddamn car, Skylar.” He jabbed his thumb into his eye socket, pacing in a circle. “Okay, I know you won’t. I’m right behind you. I’ll stop you myself.”
Robbie hung up, fumbled his phone back into the bag with quaking hands, slung the strap across his chest, and ran for the exit, his parents hot on his heels.
Chapter Thirty-Three
A faint glow of sunlight was just beginning to show itself on the horizon when Skylar reached Long Island. Even in the wee hours of the morning, the traffic going through the Bronx was backed up, due to the abundance of delivery trucks ferrying goods to Manhattan and the outer boroughs. Bridge traffic flew, however, the majority of cars heading in the opposite direction as she was welcomed by the nicer roadways and greenery of the island.
She didn’t have a plan. She only had a goal.
There was a good chance this idea made her psychotic. Point the finger at the asylum where she was raised. Courage had always been rewarded. Accomplishments. And while the Page family had made some serious strides recently in expressing their feelings to one another in a normal, healthy, non-life-threatening way, retrieving the kite from the tree was the biggest expression of love she could come up with. It was a tangible thing that she could understand, and Robbie would hopefully recognize, so she was trusting her gut and going for it.
Skylar would include words, too. Words were important. Maybe they would be enough on their own, but she couldn’t hand him the heart out of her chest, so this was the next best thing. It was real, proactive. Like Robbie moving into a new place. Or showing up with Boston University sweatshirts. Or taking her first pitch.
And at the very root of this possibly risky adventure was this: she loved him and wanted him to have the fucking kite. It was important to him.
Therefore, it was important to her, too.
Skylar had listened to the voicemails. Five times each. She didn’t like the panic in his voice, but apparently this need to prove how much he meant to her was making Skylar more stubborn than usual, because she kept driving, checking the rearview mirror every few minutes, searching for a car that might belong to Robbie’s parents.
She reached Sands Point Preserve at 5:15 a.m. It didn’t open until nine.
Too bad.
She parked on the side of the road and walked along the metal fencing until she was out of view of the security camera, then she used the trunk of a tree to hop over into the Preserve, offhandedly wondering who she would call with her one jailhouse phone call. Ironically, it would be Robbie. But she wouldn’t mind swallowing her pride if she had the yellow kite. Something to make him believe in her again. Trust her with his heart.
At this time of the morning, the air had a distinct chill, making her grateful for the Bearcats sweatshirt. Wind whipped the tree branches overhead and untucked hairs from her ponytail as she found a hiking path and took it west, using her iPhone flashlight to illuminate the way, until she reached a wooden sign that pointed her in the direction of the cliff overlook. She broke into a jog; the closer she came to the cliff, the heavier the wind, and the more her stomach muscles started to tighten.
It took her fifteen minutes to reach the cliff.
And less than ten seconds to lose her courage.
In her mind’s eye, the cliff and the beach below had rendered itself almost like a drawing. The reality was so much more intimidating. The sun was halfway risen over the Atlantic now, as if wanting to illuminate exactly how foolish she’d been to believe she could attempt this retrieval. The cliff was high. Very high. It took her a good five minutes to pinpoint where the kite was stuck and when she saw it, a hysterical laugh bubbled in her throat, carried off by the wind.
Nope. Not a chance. She’d either need a crane . . . or she’d have to shimmy her way out along a single medium-sized branch that didn’t look like it could hold her weight, simply hoping it wouldn’t snap and send her crashing to the rocks below. The kite was too far out to grasp with any kind of instrument from her position on the cliff, even if she had something that would do the trick, which she didn’t. It had quite possibly picked the most unreachable spot in this preserve to make its final resting place.
Skylar sat heavily on the ground, gathering her knees to her chest, and watched the rest of the sun creep into the sky, though the gray clouds kept the breeze heavy, the water choppy. She took out her phone, intending to call Robbie to let him know she’d aborted the mission and he could stop worrying. There was no reception and the call didn’t go through, however, so she stood and started walking back the direction she came—
“Skylar.”
Robbie’s voice stopped her progress, her heart taking over, seemingly going from dormant to hammering within seconds. “Robbie,” she called, but the rustling tree branches drowned her out, so she tried again. “Robbie.”
“Skylar.” He came into view the way a warlord might charge over a hill into battle, his visible relief when he saw her causing him to stumble. “Don’t fucking move,” he wheezed. “Don’t.”
“I’m not. I won’t.”
“Don’t you dare try to get that kite. Back away from the tree.”
Skylar put her hands up, feeling weary and overwhelmed and bolstered and elated by the sight of him, all at once. “Okay. I’m not going to do it. I can’t. It’s impossible.”
“No kidding.” Robbie reached her then—and she wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but it wasn’t to be pulled into his embrace, his mouth stamping furious kisses all over her forehead and cheeks and hair. “What the hell am I going to do with you, Skylar?”
“I was just hoping you’d keep me,” she whispered, accepting more kisses to her hairline, her neck and chin. “The kite is a lost cause, but we’re not. We’re not, right?”
Robbie went from kissing her to shaking her. “No. No, we’re not a lost cause. How could you think that for a second? Do you think I could walk away when I love you so much?” Haunted eyes ran circles around her face, his thumbs fanning up and down her cheekbones. “I’m done being mad. I’m done being without you. I’m done.”
A lump expanded in her throat. “Robbie.”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.” She sucked in an awkward breath. “And you’re the first man I’ve loved. I didn’t know what this . . . this beautiful weight felt like until you.”
He choked on a cough. Closed his eyes. “You know, you could have just said that, instead of giving me a lifetime of nightmares,” he rasped, kissing her mouth hard. “You’ll be lying beside me at night when I have them. That’s the silver lining.”
She was already nodding, but couldn’t speak just yet, the confession having taken so much of her on the way out. It felt as though she’d literally handed over her heart.
“I should have called you sooner. I just wanted to get this new apartment. Show you how serious I am. And then I saw you with my mother last night and I realized I’ve barely been breathing since the last time we were together.” Robbie rolled their foreheads together. “I don’t want to fight ever again, all right?”
Skylar’s laugh was watery. “We’re definitely going to fight, Redbeard.”
“No.” He slanted his mouth over hers, both of them moaning at the contact. “No. And I get to win this argument, because I just drove five hours thinking you’d be dangling over a cliff when I got here.”
“I’m sorry for being dramatic. I’m dramatic over you.”
“Fine. You win the argument.” He shook her a little. “God, I love you.”
“Robbie, I love you so much.”
He searched her eyes. “Enough to move in with me?”
“Already? That’s . . . that’s crazy . . .”
A low grunt of frustration. “How about your own set of keys and a giant-ass closet?”
“Still crazy.” A blissful laugh burst out of her. “But I’ll make a pro-con list in my planner.”
“Great. Let’s do it right now. We’ll start with the pro side. If you have clothes at my place, you’re more likely to sleep over. Which means I’ll get to hold you at night. God, I miss holding you. I thought I knew how much I would, but it’s worse. I can protect you, too. You know how seriously I’m going to take that job? I’ll walk you home, all the way to your door. I’ll kiss you when you’ve had a bad day. Make you laugh. And I know, I know you’re going to do all that for me, because you’re a fucking wonder.” Robbie’s mouth worked hers roughly, breaking away to race up the slope of her neck while he took her hand, bringing it to the growing bulge between his legs. “One more pro. The more time you spend at my place, the easier it’ll be to get this inside of you. You just have to ask.”
“Definite pro,” she breathed, stroking him firmly through his sweatpants. “I want you so bad.”
He hissed like a teakettle. “Have me, Skylar. I plan on having you for the rest of my life.” Skylar was so overwhelmed by the shimmer and dive of hormones and the way Robbie unzipped her jeans and slid his hand inside the opening to grip her sex, hard, kneading her flesh through her panties like he owned every inch, she almost let that statement get away.
She caught it at the last second, however, before it could fade into the ether, holding on to it like a treasure while she toed off her shoes. “I like the sound of that plan.”
“Good.” He bent forward long enough to remove her jeans entirely, tossing them to the leafy earth. “It’s the only plan.”
He backed them up until he could sit down on a boulder, pulling her down into a straddle on his lap, their mouths opening and exhaling when her softness met and pressed against that swelling part of him. “I don’t remember you being this demanding,” she gasped as he yanked her panties to the right and guided himself to her wetness.
“You don’t understand, I’ve been a mess needing this pussy. Got me so addicted.”
He shuddered violently.
Licked at her panting mouth. Whispered her name. Pressed one thick inch inside of her. Two. Making her whimper, nails sinking into the meat of his shoulder.
“Maybe I’m demanding now. Maybe I’m not myself when I’ve been without you.” Gritting his teeth, Robbie punched his hips upward, shooting delicious shock waves to every corner of Skylar’s body, the pressure so welcome it made her eyes water, made her immediately start moving, writhing, clinging to his broad shoulders while she ground and bucked her hips, thighs quaking. “I refuse to be without you anymore. Take the keys. Take the closet. Take half of everything I own.”
She rode him, thighs wide, reveling in the spontaneity of the moment, the perfect connection of their bodies, his warmth and size and heart. Yes, his heart. She could feel it thundering against her breasts, experienced his love for her everywhere. In the air, in her blood. “We’ve barely started the pro-con list—”
A snarling gust of wind ripped across the cliff, so intense she ducked her face into his neck, his arms coming around her at the same time and crushing her close. When the gust died down, they looked at each other through eyes made glassy with hunger, Skylar’s lower body beginning to roll and press and scoop again, their mouths whispering words of praise in between kisses, woven in and out of groans of each other’s names.
And Skylar could read it—the future in Robbie’s eyes. Could see how unwaveringly he believed in that future. How much he wanted and needed it with her.
She would give it to him.
When they finished, they did it together, Robbie’s hands bruising on her backside as he yanked her tight, tight to his lap and cursed gutturally, telling her he loved her while she shook, following just seconds later, his eyes losing focus, head falling back, neck muscles so stark, bathed in the morning light while she circled, circled those final times, making him jerk with a renewed wave of pleasure, finally collapsing into the arms that were now her home. And she wrapped her arms around his neck and offered him one back.
“Skylar,” he whispered a few minutes later, sounding . . . still dazed?
“Mmmm.”
He took her chin in his hand, turning her face to the right.
They both stared open-mouthed at the yellow kite sitting sideways on the earth, not five feet away, trapped in some tall grass.
“No way,” she said, moisture flooding her vision.
Robbie dropped his face into her neck, his voice hitching. “Holy shit.”
Whether the dislodging of the kite was an act of nature, pure coincidence . . . or a message from a loved one on the other side, Skylar decided to interpret it to mean they weren’t there in that moment on that exact day by coincidence. Not a moment of their time together had been an accident, since the morning of the baseball game until now. Every word, every decision had led to here . . . and she couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.
With anyone else.
“Okay, Robbie,” she whispered. “I’ll take that set of keys.”
His parents ever so faintly heard their son’s cheer of victory from outside the fence of the Preserve. They high-fived. “We’ll offer to split the wedding with her folks, I think.”
A gusting sigh followed, but there was a smile behind it. “Fine.”
Epilogue
Five Years Later
Robbie inhaled the scent of fresh cut grass, closing his eyes while he absorbed the music of life happening around him. The soundtrack had changed drastically since he’d met Skylar. Become richer and more fulfilling. And it changed again every year, adding new voices, new life, but one thing never, ever changed and that was his devotion to her.
His wife.
It had only been ten seconds since the last time Robbie looked at her, but that was ten seconds too long, as far as he was concerned. Especially now, when she was in her element, dressed in white shorts and a Bearcats hoodie, preparing to throw out the first pitch of their once-a-year Saturday morning game.
Bearcats vs. Baseball.
An excuse to get friends and teammates together, sure, but secretly, it was their way of remembering their very first meeting, which Robbie privately referred to as the day his life truly began. Who could have guessed the girl whose first words to him were fuck you would end up becoming his everything?
Robbie. He’d known. Looking back, he recognized that boot in the gut and what it had meant. He’d found his soulmate that day.
As if Skylar sensed the direction of Robbie’s thoughts, she turned and he had the pleasure of watching unconditional love wash over her features.
After which, she stuck her tongue out.
Some things never changed. Thank God.
But some things did.
For instance, the Page Stakes were never held again.
The rain check had been cashed five years earlier when Robbie and Skylar returned to Rhode Island, smashing a rendition of “Get’cha Head in the Game” complete with synchronized basketball dribbling. That video would go on to be played at their engagement party six months later, Mailer helming the projector, laughing and crying at the same time.
Another half a year later, their wedding was held at the baseball field at Langone Park, in the very spot where they met—and where they now stood, preparing for a showdown. On their wedding day four years earlier, they’d exchanged their vows on the pitcher’s mound and immediately broke into a nine-inning baseball game as soon as they said “I do,” starring the wedding party and a few of the athlete/guests, Skylar pitching in her wedding dress while the Bearcats got progressively champagne drunk, so they’d have an excuse for losing. Not that they admitted it out loud.
