“She’s the blonde, blue-eyed version of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, from her Chanel flats to her perfect light-pink lips. Her grandfather was the last legitimate heir of a banking family; they went out of business in the eighties right before I was born. My father managed to talk her into marrying him, he was in the Army with eyes toward the prize of going into politics after he got out. The only problem with his plan was he had a problem keeping it in his pants with young women. I think she felt like she got shortchanged.”
Tension I wasn’t aware of eases in him; his hand around the back of my neck slides down my spine. The other hand is still driving me crazy. “Reminds me of my mom. You might not be what she wanted, but that doesn’t mean others don’t want you.”
I blink fast not to cry. “She used to have my hair colored every six weeks so I would be a blonde like her. I didn’t realize other girls didn’t do it to until I was almost thirteen.”
“What a psycho.”
“When I figured it out, I asked the colorist to tell her I had an allergic reaction and she advised against coloring my hair. My mother freaked, and within six weeks I was packed off to boarding school.”
“Why?”
“I was no longer the little doll she got to dress up, to present to the world. I was devasted to be sent off to boarding school, but after a few weeks I was five times happier than I ever was at home.”
Shaking his head, he sighs. “Mothers, they are a trip.”
“Doesn’t sound as though you were close with your mother either.” It’s not really a question. I read she died during his junior year of college.
“Nope, she resented the fuck out of me. It was my fault she got pregnant and ruined her plans to become a singer. Then somehow it was my fault my dad didn’t have any money and he wouldn’t leave Catherine for her. My mom was always scrambling for an easy answer to her problems.”
“I’m sorry. Your dad died when you were how old again?”
“Fourteen. When he died my relationship with Catherine grew stronger.”
“What was your relationship with her growing up?”
“Every Sunday she would drive down to Austin, pick me up and take me around Dallas, sometimes to Houston to things like ballet, opera, the symphony and hours upon hours in museums. Catherine believed it was important for me to be educated in the arts, not just baseball.
“My sister hated me, resented the fuck out of me, always picked on me muttering about me being a bastard, and a half-breed, and a dirty Mexican. I never let it get to me, and Catherine never let a remark go by without attempting to correct my sister. I was just annoyed she was calling me Mexican when my mom was nuts about identifying as Brazilian. For a few years Catherine even managed to get me for the week of spring break. We went to DC then another year it was New York, more theater, culture, not a word about baseball.”
“She sounds sweet and kind of amazing. Did your father ever go with you?”
Shaking his head, he laughs. “If it wasn’t baseball my dad wasn’t interested. Indeed, she is. I’m worried about her though. She had a stroke the week before Thanksgiving. What pisses me off is no one knew about it for a day. The housekeeper found her. I want to move her here to Chicago, only she’s dragging her feet, putting me off.”
“Why do you think?”
“I have no idea. I gave her until the end of the season to decide. If she doesn’t say yes, I’m going to have to figure out how to get her here by any means necessary.” His face is hard, and I shiver a little. I’m a freak to be turned on by him even while he scares me. Chris sees me looking at him, and in an instant his mouth is on mine again. Yes, I’m a freak and I don’t care.
From far away I hear my cell phone trilling Holly’s ringtone. I ignore it, she’ll understand. Only seconds after it stops, it starts again. Fuck. Holly never does that unless it’s important. Chris feels me stiffen, and his head comes up. I nod, and with a sigh, he lets me go.
I snatch my phone. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Fair warning, we’re on our way back to Chicago and Ethan is on the war path. And good job on getting some with Chris. How was it?”
Blushing, I don’t even acknow
ledge the question. “What? Why are you on your way back to Chicago? Is it because of me and Chris?”
“Ethan is mad at me for not telling him sooner about being pregnant.”
Gasping with happiness, I laugh. “Oh my god, I’m so happy for you guys! That’s amazing news. When are you due?”
“May sixteenth. If you’re doing the math, that’s why he’s mad.”
“Holly! How could you wait so long to tell him? Wait, I didn’t even know you guys were trying. Holly, you didn’t even tell him you were trying? Holy crap, no wonder he’s on the war path.”
“I regret nothing. Now he’s all freaked out, rushing us back to Chicago on a private jet, just to talk to my OB/GYN to get it from her that everything is fine. Oh, but not so fast, he’s also making sure she’s the best in the city. This. This is why I don’t regret waiting to tell him. Anyway, I wanted to let you know. We should be back tonight. I doubt he’ll be in the office tomorrow, but you never know with Ethan.”
“I’m really happy for you guys. Give Ethan a week to let the anger burn out. You know it’s only because he’s worried about you.”