Third Base (The Boys of Summer 1)

“I think we ought to take this someplace else,” I tell her, pulling her to her feet.

“Dinner would be good.”

I look at her questioningly and she shrugs. “We can do dinner.”

We start up the stairs hand in hand, until we reach the top. “There’s just one thing though.”

“What’s that?”

“I want to make sure we’re clear on one thing.”

“Okay,” she says, drawing out the word.

“I don’t care about the blog. In fact, I want you to keep it going as long as you stop posting how many times I adjust myself.”

“Does that mean I have to stop counting?” she asks with an evil gleam in her eye.

“No, just think of it as me thinking about you.”

“I like that.”

I push her hair behind her ear and sigh lightly.

“Also know that I am, without a doubt, truly in love with you. I love you, Daisy.” I cup her cheek with my hand and kiss her until the fireworks start again. The people of Boston are going to start wondering what’s going on at Lowery Field tonight if we don’t get the hell out of here.

“Hey, babe,” I say as I walk into the house. From where I stand, I can see her trying to hang some kind of garland on one of the shelves of our floor to ceiling bookshelf. Our house is fully decorated down to a huge ass tree with white lights and all the Christmas decorations we could find. There is garland wrapped with more of the same white lights that are on the tree and red bows on every available surface, as well as tied around the pillars that separate the living area from the hallway. There’s a mountain of presents under the tree too. None of them are for me though; I know because I’ve checked.

My parents, sister, brother-in-law and Shea arrive tomorrow to celebrate Christmas with us. Daisy is nervous about meeting everyone. I’d say I get it, but she talks to my mom on the phone more than I do. My mom already loves Daisy.

Daisy moved in with me two weeks after we got back together. It wasn’t a rash decision, but one I took very seriously. She wasn’t comfortable moving without helping with expenses, which I thought was ludicrous but understood where she was coming from. She pays the utilities and cooks. I pay, happily, for everything else.

She’s also done with school, but won’t be looking for a job until February when I report for spring training. We want to spend as much time as possible together before the season starts. Her graduation is in May and we’ll be having a huge party for her.

The Boston Renegades didn’t make the off-season, which isn’t surprising. I don’t know where we ended up at in the standings, but if I wanted to know, all I have to do is ask my resident blogger. It took a bit of getting used to but I now fully support her job as the BoRe Blogger. She knows I won’t provide her with any dirt, though. I also haven’t told anyone that she’s the blogger, keeping her secret so the other wives don’t give her shit. Every so often, for the remainder of the season, I had to remind Daisy to write something about me so that she didn’t seem biased. And just because she’s my girlfriend doesn’t mean she went easy on me.

“I’m in here,” she says, clearly forgetting that I can see her.

“Do you want some help?” I ask, walking up behind her on the stepladder. I place my hands on her hips and kiss her shoulder.

“I think I got it.” She stretches up on her tippy toes to set the garland on a hook that I could’ve easily reached, but she’s fiercely independent and I don’t want to piss her off. Once the garland is hanging, she turns in my hands and jumps into my arms. Her lips find mine briefly before pulling away.

“How was your meeting?” she asks.

“Um… I wasn’t exactly at a meeting.” Her face falls, as the lie sinks in. When she tries to get out of my arms I hang on tighter. “Hold on, let me explain. I had to tell you I had a meeting so you wouldn’t ask to come with me. I went to pick up a present for you.”

“Why didn’t you just say you were going shopping?”

I shrug. “I don’t know, because I’m a dumb guy?” I walk us over to the couch and set her down, kissing her nose before letting her go. “Stay here.” I walk around the half wall and grab one of the two boxes I picked up for her today. Neither are Christmas gifts, those are all under the tree, professionally wrapped by the amazing women in the department stores.

Her eyes widen when she sees how big the box is. I have a feeling she knows what this is, even though I had it wrapped.

“This is a ‘just because’ gift.” I sit down next to her and hold the box on my lap. “I think you’re amazing and love you so much. I can’t wait for you to succeed in your career and this is to help you along.”

I slide the box over to her lap, watching her eyes light up as she tears into the paper. I know for a fact that her Christmases have been so different since her grandmother passed away and with this one being her first without her grandpa, I’m trying to make it special - which is one of the reasons why my parents are coming. My mom plans to show her how the Davenports celebrate.

“Oh my god, Ethan… this is too much. I can’t.” She tries to hand me the Mac Book Air, but I push it back toward her.