Page 73 of Leave It On The Field (Grand Slam 3)
I take a deep breath and let the words explode out of my mouth. “Katie was in my hotel room. She just left.”
“Katie who? Like Katie, the ex-girlfriend Katie?”
“Yeah.”
She’s quiet for a few seconds. “What was she doing in your room?”
“Nothing happened. She somehow got a key. Joe’s talking to hotel security right now. She let herself into the room. I told her to leave immediately. And she did, but she got into my bed before I could stop her. She might have taken a picture of me. I don’t know. I was so confused.”
“A picture of what?”
“I don’t know—like of my bed or me. I was just wearing underwear when she broke in. Nothing happened. I swear, Sophie. Nothing happened.”
“I know nothing happened, Seb.” Her voice has recovered. It’s getting louder with every word. “But how did she get in? And what did she think was going to happen? And why did she think that? Have you been talking to her?”
“Not at all. Soph, I swear. I haven’t seen her since that party the first night, and I said like twenty words to her there. I think Ricky’s feeding her some bullshit about how our marriage isn’t working. He’s done, Soph. I was going to wait until after the series, but I’m telling him today. Okay?”
There’s complete silence on the other end of the phone. I don’t even hear any background noise.
“Sophie? Say something.” Still nothing. “Sophie!”
“Say what, Seb?” She finally gets out. “What do you want me to say? If Ricky’s the Twitter person or if Katie is, this is going to be all over the media by game time.”
“Maybe not—”
“Seb, this person hasn’t held back on anything for almost a year now. It’s not like they’ll hold back now.”
I close my eyes. “Nothing happened—”
“I know nothing happened!” Her voice is so loud that it makes me drop my phone. “I know you didn’t cheat on me. I know you don’t want to cheat on me. But it will still be awful. God! It won’t stop. We’re just getting through one fake scandal and now another one pops up. I can’t take it anymore. I’m so fucking tired.”
“I’ll quit,” I whisper. “I’ll come up to Blitzen right now.”
“You’re not quitting!” This is the first time I’ve heard her really scream. “Because God knows everyone’s going to blame me for that too. I don’t need any more hate right now. You’re finishing this series. Do what you want after that, but you’re finishing this fucking World Series.”
“Okay. I’ll finish,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry, baby.”
“I know you are, and it’s not your fault, but the apology doesn’t help right now.” She pauses and inhales loudly. “Thank you for telling me so I can at least try to prepare myself.”
“Everything. Right when it happens. That’s what we said, right?”
“Yeah.”
No one says anything for a strong three minutes. It feels like three years.
“Are you coming to the game tonight?” I finally ask.
“I don’t know.” Her volume level’s back to normal, but her voice is cold. I’ve never heard her sound like this. “Let’s see what shows up on Twitter.”
“Okay.”
“I have to go. I’ll text you when we’re on our way back to L.A.”
“Okay. I love you, Sophie. More than anything.”
“I know.”
When she clicks off the phone without saying it back, it feels like someone just plunged a knife into my chest. I throw the TV remote across the room. It hits the lamp and knocks it off the table.
I text Ricky.
You’re done. Stay away from me for your own good because if I see you,I’ll fucking kill you.
* * *
