Then it occurs to me that True isn’t the only one who’s going to be in my life forever—her brother is, too. Even if I get traded to another city, even if I retire from the game and quit altogether—I will see Buzz Wallace for the rest of my life.
He is going to hate me so much.
“How are you going to tell your brother? Tripp knows, right?”
“Yes, Tripp knows. And my best girlfriends, and Molly.” She bites her lower lip. “I’m not sure what to say to Buzz. I just worry he’s not going to take it well.”
“Because it’s me?”
Her head shakes. “No, because it’s me. I’m his baby sister. We may only be a year apart, but in his mind, I’m the baby, his to watch over and take care of…and I think he’s going to be super dramatic about it ’cause that’s what he does.”
“I can see that. Once when he hit a home run, he cried.”
One of True’s eyebrows arches. “What?”
“Yeah—I mean, it’s not really a big deal because we’ve all cried at one point or another, especially when we make it to the playoffs, but every now and again if he hits a doozy of a home run, your brother will cry.” I dip my spoon into the soup I ordered instead of a house salad.
“He’s so emotional.”
“It’s a shock he’s never thrown a tantrum.”
“Newsflash: I’ve seen him throw them plenty of times. Don’t most male athletes?”
I chuckle. “Oh yeah—yeah, we sometimes do. Throwing bats, kicking, picking up the garbage can in the dugout and tossing it, swearing so much at an umpire we get fined.”
“How much does that cost?”
“I don’t know, around five grand I would imagine—it’s never happened to me, but I’ve heard rumors. We’re supposed to keep the language clean, but that’s like telling a bear not to shit in the woods.”
“I typically deal with college athletes—I’m not all that familiar with the pros.”
That’s right—I keep forgetting True works in the recruiting aspect of the business.
“How has work been for you?”
She shrugs, drawing my eyes to her bare shoulders. “It’s been great working from home. I don’t think my boss realized until I restructured my travel schedule due to all the morning sickness that I could get so much accomplished being home. Plus, I’m saving them tons of money by not flying. Not needing hotel rooms. Not buying athletes and their parents meals. We can do all our meetings via video calls—it’s been a dream.”
“At least you’re happy doing what you’re doing.”
True deliberates. “Ideally, I won’t be at this company forever. I consider it a stepping stone, but nothing else has come up yet. My dream job is working with an athletic apparel company on their marketing team. Lots of fieldwork. But that was then, and this…” She rubs her belly again. “We’ll see how it goes. I think I can do both—I know I can. I’ll just have to decide if I want to when Baby Burrito comes along.”
“Did you just call the baby a burrito?” I think my heart just melted. “That’s fucking adorable. We should get pictures taken of it wrapped in a swaddling blanket but with lettuce coming out of the top. How stinking cute is my kid gonna be?”
I can’t take it, the visuals of a photo session already formulating in my mind, all the things I’m going to do with my kid in the off-season.
“I should probably upgrade my phone so I can get the one with eight camera lenses.”
True looks confused. “There is no phone with eight camera lenses.”
“Not today there isn’t, but there will be by the time the baby is born.”
We laugh at the joke.
“Can I clear these plates for you, Mr. Espinoza?” the server asks when True and I have finished our starters; I hadn’t noticed my soup is gone and the bowl is empty.
The table is cleared, new silverware set for the entrees, and True is leaning forward with her elbows propped on the table.
“Parents, families…who are you telling first, your parents or your sisters—or both all at once?”
“I don’t know. It’s almost impossible to keep anything a secret, so I might as well do it all at once. If I only tell my sisters, within seconds one of them will call or message my mother, who will call me immediately to yell. But if I tell my parents and not my sisters, then the whole drama becomes why I waited, and they feel betrayed and they fixate on the fact that I waited to tell them instead of the news I’m sharing.” I snatch a hunk of bread from the basket. It’s cold, but I need to keep my hands busy and there is no paper napkin to shred apart. “Having a family full of strong, independent women is the bane of my existence.”