The Sweetest Game (The Perfect Game #3)

The Sweetest Game (The Perfect Game #3) Page 19

“Ahhhh, Kitten.” He started to laugh and I swore I’d kill him if he didn’t stop. “Do you want me to send someone there to pack our shit? I’ll fly you out to Seattle right now and I’ll get someone to handle all that. You just say the word and it’s done. You don’t need to be doing that all alone. I told you that.”

“That’s so hot,” I mumbled through my whimpering.

“What is?”

“The way you protect me and want to take care of me. I love youuuu,” I told him, my declaration dragged out with my sobs. I couldn’t stop.

“I love you too,” he said. “Stop packing or not packing. Whatever you’re doing, just stop. We’ll figure it out later. But right now, we need to book my kitten a flight to come see me.”

I sucked in a shaky breath. “Okay. That sounds good.”

“We really don’t have to move out right now, you know. Hell, we can keep the apartment in New York for all I care. We’ll just never use it as often as we’ll want to. But if you want to keep it, we should.”

“I do want to,” I said. “But then again I don’t. It’s not realistic and it’s a waste of money.”

“Your decision. I’ll support whatever you want, okay? I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy,” I cried out.

“I can tell,” he said, his voice all funny like it was when he tried not to laugh. “Okay, babe, I have a ticket for you to fly out to Seattle first thing tomorrow morning. It’s real early, so you need to go to bed. I’m e-mailing you and Matteo the itinerary now.”

“How did you do that already? We’re still on the phone.”

“I’m Harry Potter, remember? I’m fucking magic!”

I laughed and he chuckled into my ear. “There’s my girl. I’ll see you tomorrow. Now, go get some sleep.”

“Thank you. I miss you,” I confessed with my whole heart, wishing he could feel just how deeply I meant the words. My love for Jack felt like it filled my body to bursting at every seam that held me together. I was overcome with emotion on every level.

“I miss you too. I hate being away from you. I’ve always hated it, but this is different. You’re not home when I get there and it makes me crazy.”

“Me too.”

“Stop crying, please. It fucking kills me to hear you crying.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“You’ve finally cracked. I always knew you were crazy. I mean, I did get you to marry me.”

I wiped my eyes, and couldn’t stop the smile that formed on my face. “I’m in bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good girl. I can’t wait.”

My plane landed in Seattle a little before eight the next morning. We disembarked via air stairs and walked across the paved runway before entering an annexed building. I glanced up at the clouds hovering in the sky. They threatened to drown me with the raindrops they carried. The air held a gentle chill that New York lacked this time of year. Even in a summer rainstorm, the East Coast air was hot and sticky. Not so in the Pacific Northwest. It was quite a change for me.

I walked through the small building, took the escalator down, and waited patiently for the shuttle that would take me to baggage claim. Within seconds, the double doors opened and I stepped inside. My stomach flipped as nervous energy surged through me at the idea of seeing my husband. I missed him so much.

Following the signs that pointed to baggage claim, I realized that I’d walked in a circle. Somewhere along the line, I wasn’t translating the arrow directions correctly. Passing by the women’s bathroom one more time, I decided I couldn’t hold it and stepped inside. My stomach ached and fought against the urge to puke.

I must be hungry.

I splashed some cold water on my face before patting it dry with a paper towel. Stepping into the oncoming foot traffic, I decided to follow the herd of other travelers, convinced they would lead me straight to my destination. And they did.

When I was halfway down the escalator, I saw my husband standing at the bottom with a dimpled smile on his face, holding a sign that read:

I covered my face with my hands and burst into tears. My mind flashed back to Jack in the airport when we first dated, holding the sign that read:

I bolted from the escalator and straight into his waiting arms. His body was warm and comforting as he held me close.

“It wasn’t supposed to make you cry.” He kissed my head and patted my hair.

“The sign, Jack. The sign,” I blubbered into his T-shirt. “And I’ve really missed you.”

Holy hell, I need to stop crying all the time lately. Something is seriously wrong with me. I feel so out of control and unbalanced.

Jack’s thumb reached across my cheek and wiped my tears away. He leaned down, pressing his lips against mine, and my body melted into his. “I’ve missed you too. Let’s get your bag and get out of here.”

I nodded as he linked his fingers with mine. “How’s your hand feeling?”

“Good. Real good.” While we waited at the baggage claim carousel, he flexed and stretched his left hand before reaching for my small suitcase. “This it?” he asked as he pulled it off the spinning track.

“Yeah, just that.”

I don’t know why I checked it when it was small enough to carry on board. Occupational habit, maybe. Whenever I traveled for work, I always checked all my equipment and bags, so this routine was second nature to me.

“I’m getting stronger, you know,” he said, his eyebrows raised.

I flashed him a smile and squeezed his hand. “I knew you would.”

“And I gained another mile per hour on my fast-ball yesterday.” He grinned from ear to ear and my body heated with pride.

“Jack, that’s fantastic. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Kitten.” His face beamed with pleasure, the light brown rings closest to his pupils nearly glowing.

By the time we arrived at his hotel, my stomach betrayed me. I could barely stand up straight, it hurt so badly. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I hadn’t seen Jack in almost two weeks and now that we were together, I was sick?

“I’m sorry, Jack. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” I looked at him apologetically as we waited for the elevator.

“Don’t be sorry, just get better. Did you eat breakfast this morning?”

I shook my head, the very idea of food making me want to hurl. “No. No food.”

“I’ll order—” he started to respond before I cut him off.

“No! I don’t want anything!” I fought to keep the nothing I’d eaten inside my body as the elevator rocked to a stop. I wrapped my arm across my tummy and attempted to walk.

“I got you,” Jack said before scooping me into his arms and carrying me down the long hallway. The last time he held me like this was after I’d gotten mugged in college. Some guy had come out of nowhere and stolen my camera and beat the crap out of me. When Jack finally found me, he picked me up and walked all the way to my apartment without stopping to catch his breath or slow his pace. It was the most romantic thing ever.

He was doing the same thing now. I leaned my body into his, listening to the sound of his heart beating against his muscled chest. It seemed like we walked for hours before we arrived at his hotel room door.

“I have to put you down,” he warned before placing my feet gently on the ground. “Can you stand?”

“Yeah,” I responded, my body doubled over in pain.

He swiped his keycard, the light turned green, and the lock made a clicking sound. Jack turned the handle and held the door open with his foot as I trudged inside. I rounded the corner and fell on top of his bed, pulling my knees to my chest.

“Kitten, what happened?” he asked as he sat down next to me on the bed. He propped pillows up behind him before pulling my head on top of his legs. His fingers ran through my hair and I could feel the intensity of his stare on me.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. I just don’t feel good all of a sudden.”

“I have to leave in two hours for the field, but I don’t want to leave you like this.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine after I nap or something. Don’t worry about me.”

He let out a loud huff. “Don’t worry about you? Okay, Kitten. Sure thing. Never gonna fucking happen.”

“I just meant that I’ll be fine. I probably just need sleep and food.” I hesitated. “At some point.”

He stroked my hair, then stood up to walk over to the windows and pulled the curtains closed.

A moment later, he pressed a kiss to my cheek. Then he was gone.

My eyes opened in the darkened room, and when I turned my head to look for the alarm clock, my neck stiffened under the weight of my twisted sleeping position. How long had I been asleep?

“Jack?”

I moved my arm and the sound of paper crinkling drew my attention toward a piece of paper lying on the bedspread. It was a note from Jack.

Didn’t want to wake you. I hope you feel better. Your tickets are at will-call, but please don’t come if you don’t feel good. I mean it, Kitten. If you feel like shit, stay here! I’ll be back before you know it.

Determined to attend his game, I pushed myself to my feet. My head spun and I pressed my hand against the wall for balance. I needed water, and I knew Jack’s mini fridge would be filled with it.

Opening a bottle, I took a sip before immediately bolting to the bathroom. The water I’d just swallowed came surging back up with a vengeance. Okay, I was definitely sick. There was no way I could go to the game like this; I’d never make it through a single inning.

Reaching for my cell phone, I typed out a message to Jack, letting him know I wouldn’t be at the game. He wouldn’t get to read it until after, but at least he’d know not to look for me and would come straight back to the hotel. Hopefully by then I’d be feeling better.

I set my phone on the bed beside me just as it rang. Melissa’s singsong ringtone filled the room and I pressed OKAY to answer the call.

“Hey, girly,” I whined into the phone line.

“Holy shit, you sound like death. Where are you?” Her chipper tone was almost too much for me to take in my current state.

“I’m in Seattle with Jack. Where are you?”

“Uh,” she stuttered. “I’m at home. Where else would I be?”

I reached for a pillow and tucked it in front of my hips and tummy. Leaning my body against the coolness of the pillowcase helped settle my upset belly. “I don’t know. So, what’s up?”

“Why do you sound so bad? Are you sick?”

“I think so. My stomach is killing me and I threw up right before you called.”

“Pregnant,” she stated in her typical teasing tone, but something in that one word caused my breath to hitch.

When the hell was the last time I had my period? Was it over a month ago? I can’t remember.

“Cass?” Melissa’s voice rang in my ear.