“Stay Grand, and don’t you forget it,” I finish, returning his smile.
“I don’t want to leave you,” he says softly.
“We’ll be here cheering you on. We’ll make it work. I promise.”
“From here,” he says, his tone somber. “That’s what’s killing me.”
“Troy, it’s pro ball. It’s a dream come true. It’s what you’ve been working your ass off for. You know, since your teaching career didn’t work out.”
We share a smile.
“Finally,” I laugh. “I can make a joke.”
His expression again turns sullen.
“We’ll come up,” I offer, “you can come down, and we’ll—”
His next words strike me right in the chest. “I want you to come with me.”
“What?” I damn near stumble into the wall as he takes my hand and leads me into the living room. He sits me down on the couch and begins to pace.
“Hear me out, okay?”
I nod and watch him as he runs a pattern on my rug, cupping his neck.
“I’ll set you up. We can get him in a private school if it makes you feel safer. You can teach anywhere, right?”
“Yes, but Troy, New York?”
“Yeah. There’s a ton of places outside the city that are more ideal for raising a family. I sent you an email when I pulled up tonight. There’s a house and—”
“That’s a lot to ask.”
He blows out a breath and hangs his head. “I know.” He lifts his eyes meeting mine. “But I’m asking. If there were something keeping you here, I wouldn’t. But you aren’t buying this place, right? You hate the owner.”
“Cute.”
“Just, do me a favor and look at the email.”
“Now?”
He nods.
“Okay.”
I pull my laptop from my chair and see that he did send an email a few minutes before he knocked on the door. I click on the listing, and my eyes bulge.
“Troy, that’s entirely too much house.”
“But it’s beautiful, right? Look, it has a blue door. Dr. Seuss blue, but we can paint it purple.”
“Troy, I don’t expect you to take care of me.”
“I want to. Whatever amount I get, I know damn well I can afford this house. As of next week, I’m a rich man. I want this for Dante and for you. Please,” he kneels down before me. “Just tell me you’ll consider it. I’ll get something close.”
And with that statement, I feel he’s closed the door on us. I try to hide the hurt as I look over at him.
“Can I think about it?”