The Sweetest Game (The Perfect Game 3)

“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?”