Page 78 of Catching the Coach
“Whatever,” I grumble, not willing to agree, even though I know he’s right.
Reaching into the basket, Kessler pulls out paper plates and passes one to me. I take it and open the container closest to me. The smell of Tony’s pizza greets me, making my mouth water instantly. “Oh, come to mama,” I say, putting two huge slices on my plate and passing the container off to Kessler.
He chuckles and puts two slices on his own plate. We lapse into silence, both inhaling our pizza. Once we’ve finished off our slices, we set the plates to the side, letting our stomachs settle. Kessler opens the bottle of wine and takes two glasses out of the basket, pouring us each a glass. The wine is sweet and surprisingly cold on my tongue. Charlie is definitely getting a thank you basket or something for pulling out all the stops for us.
Reaching for the bluetooth speaker, Kessler hits a button on it and then grabs his phone, connecting it to the speaker. He scrolls through until he finds the song he’s looking for and hits play. Notes from a piano streams out of the tiny speaker, and “How Long Will I Love You” by Ellie Goulding surrounds us.
Kessler takes my glass and sets it on top of the basket with his. Getting to his feet, Kessler holds out a hand to me asking, “Can I have this dance?”
My heart catches in my throat as I take his hand, letting him pull me to my feet. We step off the blanket and Kessler wraps one arm around my back and holds my hand in his other. Placing my free hand on his shoulder, I lay my head on his chest and we sway back and forth with the music. I close my eyes listening to Kesslers chest rumble as he hums along with the music.
When the song ends, I pull back and look up at Kessler, silent tears streaming down my face. Giving me a soft smile, he leans down and kisses each of my tear stained cheeks before reaching my lips. I open up for him, tasting the salt from my tears on his tongue.
Pulling back before we get carried away again Kessler looks into my eyes, his deep moss green, boring into my hazel ones. “Thank you so much for tonight Kessler. This is the best date I’ve ever had,” I whisper to him.
“This is just the beginning. I will give you the world if you let me, Lucy.” And I believe every word he tells me. This is what true love feels like and I’ve never felt like I do when I’m in his arms, or when he’s looking at me when he doesn’t think I notice.
Raising my hand to his lips he places a kiss to my knuckles and leads me back over to the blanket. He pulls me down with him and we lay back against the heavenly pillows. I’m tucked into his side, laying my head on his chest.
We lay in silence for a few minutes, before I ask a question I’ve been curious about. “Have you thought about what you want to do once you actually do retire from baseball?”
My question is met with silence. Sitting up, I prop my head up on my hand and look at him. Kessler takes a deep breath, then lets it out. “I don’t really know. I became somewhat interested in how the body heals when I was rehabbing from my injury.” He shrugs. “Maybe I’ll open a facility for injured athletes to go to for rehab.”
That actually wouldn’t be a horrible idea, he could staff it with physical, and massage therapists. Have a gym in one section, a small pool for low impact water therapy in another. A sauna and hot tub area. I start building a blueprint in my brain of the perfect layout for a rehab facility. I’m so engrossed in the details, I don’t hear Kessler ask me if I’m ready to go until he sits up and is staring at me expectantly. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I asked if you were ready to head out. There’s a couple of staff that stayed late to turn off the lights and lock up when we’re done and I don’t want to make them stay later than they already have for us.”
I scramble to my feet. “Oh, of course, I didn’t realize anyone was waiting on us.” We pack up the picnic and head to the truck.
We’re heading back to the house when Kessler asks, “What were you thinking so hard about back there?”
I shake my head. “You’re going to think it’s silly.”
“Try me.”
Smiling, I look out the window. “I was thinking about the perfect layout for your rehab facility.” I laugh and raise a shoulder. “I can’t help it, it’s the PT in me.”
Kessler reaches for my hand, entwining his fingers with mine. “I don’t think it’s silly,” he says, giving my hand a squeeze. “Maybe it’s something we can do together when it’s time for me to hang up my mitt.”
I nod, even though it’s dark in the truck and lose myself in the details of the perfect facility the rest of the way home.
* * *
The next night, I’m sitting in bed massaging a knot out of Kesslers shoulder while he reads my favorite Amelia Morgan book. He surprised me with a signed special edition last week before he left. I’m still a little shocked that he’s reading them, but he told me he actually enjoys the stories she writes. We text back and forth discussing them when he’s on the road.
Kessler chuckles, dragging me from my thoughts. I peek over his shoulder. “What part are you at?”
He leans back against me, making me lay back into the stack of pillows behind me. I wrap my arms around the front of his chest and set my chin on his good shoulder. He holds the book up so I can see what he’s reading. “Oh, I love this part. Tina getting shit on by that bird is, muah, chefs kiss,” I say kissing my fingers.
Kessler laughs. “I gotta say, the things Miss Morgan comes up with are hilarious. Makes me wonder how she thinks of these things.”
I shrug. “I think I read once that it’s a mixture of things she reads in articles and life she’s experienced. Which is why I’m a reader and not a writer.”
He turns his head slightly to look at me. “What do you mean by that?”
I side eye his side eye. “Well, up until I met you, my life was pretty plain and simple. Work, baseball, friends. Nothing exciting worth writing about.”
Kessler closes his book and rolls to the side, propping his head on his hand. “And what about family?”
