Listen, Pitch (There's No Crying in Baseball 3) - Page 63

We’d gotten them all to ourselves for a whole month—exactly thirty-one days—before our final little girl, Mellie, had made her arrival.

Overall, Mellie and the twins were eleven and a half weeks apart.

“I’ll be there. Just send me the flight info when you have it. Text it to me, that’s fine. Yes. I’m sorry. Yes. I’ll be there, it’s no trouble at all. Thanks, have a good day,” Rhys said as he hung up the phone.

He dropped his head to my chest and then moaned into my breasts.

The movement caused things inside me to clench in need, but then the telltale cry of one of our children sounded out, and the moment was lost.

“Fuuuuuck.”

I snorted and pushed his head off my boobs, then reached for my shorts that were on the ground next to the bed.

“Don’t go,” he whined.

“If I don’t go, whoever is awake will wake up the others. Do you want that?” I teased.

We both knew he didn’t. That was why he didn’t complain as I walked out of the room and went to our eldest baby—Marshall’s—crib and gently pulled him out.

The moment he was in my arms, his cries instantly waned.

“You’re such a turkey,” I whispered to him, glancing at the other babies who, thankfully, were still fast asleep.

He laid his head down on my chest, and I felt something akin to peace stir through me.

The last year had been one hell of a ride, but I wouldn’t trade a single thing for the world.

Not one thing.

“He okay?”

I looked up to find Rhys, in only a pair of underwear, staring at me with his arms crossed tight over his chest.

His sun-bronzed skin was darker than usual thanks to him and his teammates putting together a jungle gym for our children—a jungle gym that Rhys had insisted that we get despite the fact that the kids wouldn’t really be able to enjoy it for years to come.

I nodded and handed Marshall over to Rhys, who immediately snuggled in close to his daddy’s chest.

Seeing them together, Marshall in only a diaper, chest to chest with his daddy, sent a thrill shooting through me.

God, I loved my family.

He backed away and held his arm up, and I didn’t hesitate in moving so my side was against his, his arm around my shoulders and pulling me in tight.

He walked quietly with me back to our room. Once we got there, we all climbed back into bed.

“What was that call about?” I asked quietly, burrowing under the covers and scooting until my body was in the crook of Rhys’ arm.

Rhys pressed a kiss to Marshall’s head—who’d fallen asleep again—before answering.

“There’s a little boy that I was supposed to go see for that Make-A-Wish campaign next week. Unfortunately, the little boy took a turn for the worse, and they asked if I’d be willing to come now while he’s still with us. I said yes,” Rhys murmured, sounding sick.

I looked up at my husband. “You’re a good man, Rhys.”

Rhys didn’t smile.

“A good man wouldn’t have brought you into my messy life,” he murmured. “A good man would’ve given that money to Pablo, not put my sister or her family in danger, and definitely not brought you into the middle of my drama.”

I pressed a kiss to his chest. “Your sister is fine. Her husband and child are great. I’m fine. You have three sweet babies.”

The one baby that we’d had to bury thanks to Michael’s actions wasn’t forgotten. We both felt that loss deep in our soul and still found ourselves visiting that tiny little grave when we thought about her. Which was a lot. More than one would think.

Sometimes, when I was feeling the urge to go visit, I’d find Rhys already there.

But instead of interrupting him, I gave him the time that he needed. And he did the same for me.

“I just wanted you to know that, technically, you’re allowed to divorce me if you want to.”

I turned in Rhys’ arm and looked at him, a knot of fear climbing up my throat, and swallowed. “I guess that goes both ways. You’re allowed to divorce me, too, if you want to.”

His eyes took on this weird, almost possessed look. Then he leaned forward until my face was so close to his that even a sheet of paper couldn’t separate us. “I’ll never, not ever, leave you. At least not willingly.”

I settled back down into his arm.

“I love you, Rhys. The only time I’ll ever leave you is in death.”

His arm tightened almost painfully around me, and he pressed a kiss to my head—right above my transmitter.

“I love you, too, baby. Your supposed flaws and all.”

I gave him a look that clearly said what I thought about his comment.

I did have flaws.

Just because he chose not to see them as flaws, didn’t mean that I didn’t have them.

Tags: Lani Lynn Vale There's No Crying in Baseball Romance
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