Page 2 of Leave It On The Field (Grand Slam 3)
“You are not!” Maisie grabs my hand. “Seb loves having you at the games. He would be way more distracted if you weren’t here.”
“I’m not talking about him,” I say, nodding my head backward as a man yells my name again. He’s been yelling at me most of the game. “You know how it is now. Someone’s always trying to get my attention. It’s distracting for the fans who sit in this section, including the other wives and girlfriends.”
“She’s not wrong,” our centerfielder’s wife, Casey, says from behind us.
Maisie spins around. “Keep your opinions to yourself, Casey. You’re jealous that you don’t get this kind of attention.”
“Mae, stop,” I say, taking her chin and pointing it back toward the field. “Casey and I have made our peace since the St. John drama. Leave it alone.”
Casey pats my shoulder. “I’m not coming at you, Sophie. You’re one of us now, but really, you’re getting as famous as our husbands. Everywhere we go, someone’s trying to take your picture or get your autograph.”
“Like I said—jealous.” Maisie turns back around to face her. “Are you still in contact with Caroline? Is she the one who’s trolling Sophie on Twitter? She’s always had a really creepy obsession with her. Does she still blame Sophie for Manny divorcing her?”
“I don’t know who she blames for what,” Casey says. “I don’t talk to her anymore. It was affecting my marriage so I stopped. Paige, does Manny still hear from her?”
“I have no idea. We don’t waste our time talking about Caroline. She moved back to Orlando. Out of sight, out of mind.”
“That’s for the best,” I say, smiling at Paige. “You’re so good for Manny. He deserves someone like you.”
“We’re really happy,” she says. “I told him if we ever have kids, we have to name the first one after you to thank you for setting us up.”
“Lord help us,” Casey says. “Another Sophie in the world.”
“Sophie! Sophie! Turn around!” The guy’s voice is getting louder and more insistent.
“God,” Casey says, “it’s so annoying.”
“For no one more than me,” I say, trying to concentrate on Seb as he fouls off another pitch. “I hate every second of the attention—here, on social media, at the grocery store. I hate it all.”
“Speaking of social media,” Paige says, “my mom said she tried to follow you on Twitter, but your account is private. Since when?”
“Since spring training. That’s when miamibballbabe really started coming after me. I blocked her and made all of my social accounts private. She has like fifty thousand followers. I couldn’t block them all. They’re like weeds.”
Maisie growls. “It’s stupid that you can’t have social media because people don’t have lives. I swear if I ever find out who she is I’m going to bitch slap her into oblivion.”
“You and me both, sister. I’m thinking about just deleting my accounts. I never post anymore. The comments are crazy. And I don’t want anyone to know what Seb and I are doing anyway.”
“He still posts though,” Paige says. “I follow him.”
“No,” I say, laughing. “He doesn’t post at all. That’s his social media coordinator from the agency. She takes care of everything. I’m not even sure he looks at social media except to see what people are saying about me. I had to ask him to stop sharing the hateful posts with me. Like Paige said, ‘out of sight, out of mind.’”
Seb fouls off another pitch. He’s been working a full count forever. I can tell the pitcher’s getting frustrated. My husband is stubborn. He’s not an easy out.
“Way to hang in there, Seb!” some guy to the left of us yells. “This next pitch is all you.”
“Do you think he hears any of that on the field?” Maisie asks. “The coaching tips and stuff?”
“He says no, although he can tell me word for word what I yell out to him, so maybe he has selective hearing.”
The pitcher steps off the mound and starts muttering into his glove. The catcher calls a timeout and walks out to him. The third baseman joins them.
“Hey.” I look up to see a strange man pointing at me from the aisle. He’s wearing Seb’s jersey. “Aren’t you Seb Miller’s wife? I’ve been yelling at you.”
“Uh, I’m just trying to watch the game,” I say, trying to hide behind Paige as I sink into my seat.
“Yeah, we all are,” Maisie says, motioning around him to home plate. “You’re in the way.”
“It’s a timeout,” the guys says, spilling his beer as he tries to take a drink. He’s obviously had a few too many already. “You’re not missing anything. Sophie, can I get a picture with you?”
