“Come on, Charlie. The next stop is ours.”
Curiously, she does as she’s told while checking off the possible places I’m taking her to like a mile-long list. And the best part is that I know she passed right by the actual activity without a second thought.
“Is it that new cookie dough place?” she asks as the train stops, and we exit.
“Nope.”
“What about that art place where you drink wine and paint stuff?”
“Nope,” I repeat before guiding her up the stairs. My face threatens to spill the surprise, but I do my best to cover it.
“You’re killing me here!” she whines.
“Patience, Charlie. You’ll find out soon enough.”
When we reach the surface and walk an extra block, her eyes light up. Turning on her heel, her dainty, little hands press against my chest to stop me.
“You didn’t,” she accuses.
“I did.”
“No, you didn’t.”
I laugh and pull her into a hug.
“Oh. But I did.”
With the girliest squeal I’ve ever heard coming from her, Charlie squirms in my arms before practically pouncing on me like a little jaguar. Her legs wrap around my waist, squeezing me as tight as she possibly can while chanting, “No, you didn’t, no you didn’t!”
“Are you surprised?” I ask through bouts of laughter.
“Yes!”
Standing a few feet in front of us is the famous Yankee Stadium in all its glory. The lights are bright as they bounce off the brick walls. The navy flags sway in the light breeze. The smell of hot dogs and deep-fried goodness floats through the air. And the crowd is buzzing with anticipation. I look down at Charlie in my arms and grin, although the crowds don’t hold a candle to the girl humming with energy in my arms.
“Thank you!” she cries before dropping back to her feet on the ground. I entwine our fingers then lead her to the entrance. Pulling out our tickets, I hand them to the usher who scans them then lets us proceed to our seats.
Charlie’s eyes are wide as she takes in the famed ballpark that holds so many memories for her.
“I don’t think I’ve been here in over ten years,” she admits on a breath.
Her dad had to sell their nosebleed season tickets when she was a little kid to pay for her braces, and she refused to come back after that. The guilt of being a kid with crooked teeth to a single parent was enough to sour the stadium. Then, by the time she was old enough to let it go, life got in the way. Just like it always does.
And she never came back.
The anxiety in my chest eases when I take in her wistful smile and the crinkled corners of her eyes. She’s not pissed I brought her here.
Good.
Lifting our clasped hands, I press a quick kiss to the back of her hand. “I thought it might be time to change that.”
“And I think that was a wise decision,” she teases.
Once we’re in our seats, we order a couple of footlongs and beer then settle in for a night of fun.
Charlie belts the lyrics to Take Me Out to The Ball Game while we sway with the crowd a few innings later, and I catch myself mesmerized by the girl beside me.
When she catches me staring, her smile stretches into a full-on grin, and a soft pink color spreads up her neck and into her cheeks.