Grand Slam (The Boys of Summer 3)

th the risks, and I can’t find the right words to convey that to him without hurting his feelings. The last thing I want to do is hurt him, but I have to tell him. I can’t continue leading him on, even though each kiss brings me closer to succumbing to him.

Elijah’s face lights up my screen, this time by calling. I dread speaking to him, so I send him to voice mail and open his text message instead. He’s asking when and what the address is for the play palace, and honestly I was hoping he would’ve forgotten or decided Lucy wasn’t worth the headache and returned to Virginia, back to his picture-perfect house and Stepford wife.

I decide to wait until about five minutes before we leave to let Elijah know where we’ll be. It’s mean on my part, but the man deserves to be kept on his toes where Lucy is concerned. All the way to the play palace, she yammers on about Travis and how he’s her best friend and how she wants him to come over again. Secretly, I do, too. I haven’t slept well all week, not since the night he came over, and I have never felt more alive than the day we made out at the gym. When I’m alone, thoughts of the night Travis and I spent together keep me yearning for him, and no matter what I do to quell those visions, there are more waiting in the wings to take their place. Not to mention the anticipation of what could happen if I let go of my inhibitions and gave in to him.

Last night when he called, I almost gave in and invited him to come back over. He’s right—the sexual tension between us is thickening day by day, and I’m on the verge of combustion. Travis has a knack for taking a word like fuck and turning it into the most sensual expression ever. When he asked me if I wanted to fuck, to be with him longer than one night, I nodded yes while my mouth muttered the words I can’t.

I can’t replayed over and over in my head as I achieved my own orgasm while imagining it was him between my legs. I have never been one to resort to self-pleasure, until this week, and now it is an automatic response after he’s left or after he’s invaded a dream. While I may know my body, Travis mastered it in one night, and I’ll never be able to duplicate what he did.

My level of anxiety grows as we enter the palace. I pay our fee, our hands get stamped, and I quickly usher Lucy over to a locker where we can store our stuff.

“Travis would love it here,” she says as she takes off her winter wear. I look around and agree. Deep down he’s a big kid, at least where Lucy is concerned.

“I’m sure he would.”

“Maybe next time he can come.” She looks up at me with her blue eyes, eyes that are the same color as Travis’s. That thought alone gives me pause. I don’t see him as a family man, but I see pride in his eyes when he looks at Lucy. I push her brunette locks out of the way and give her a kiss on the nose.

“Come here. Let me fix your hair.” Her hair is full of static from her stocking cap.

Lucy does as I ask, turning around and tipping her head back so I can redo her ponytail. When I was young, I used to dream of having a daughter so I could do her hair, and now that I do, I realize how much of a pain it is. Everything gets in your hair when you’re little.

“All set,” I tell her, and move us along until we’re in the play area. “I’ll be right here.” I point to the table where I’m going to sit and read while she plays. I like the security of the play palace, knowing that Lucy can’t leave unless the stamp on her hand matches mine. This allows her to get out the energy she has from being cooped up during the winter, and I can catch up on some reading.

I try not to watch the door, wondering if Elijah is going to show. I don’t want to believe that he’s changed, that he’s willing to make Lucy a priority. I want him to forget about her, pretend she doesn’t exist, but I know he won’t do that.

I’m lost in the pages of my book when I hear his voice. A quick glance tells me he’s not thrilled to be in a place like this. It’s noisy, dirty, and there’s a mob of children running around freely. I’m laughing on the inside because this is perfect. This is Lucy. If you’re not playing dress-up and willing to be a kid, then you won’t end up being her best friend.

“Do you plan to stay here all day?” he asks, standing next to me.

“You can sit down, ya know,” I say, pointing to the seat in front of me. He hesitates and brushes the chair off with his hand. I can’t help but laugh at how out of place he looks in his suit. It’s the weekend. He needs to lighten up. When we were together, he used to wear jeans and loafers. Never sneakers. Now that I think about it, it drove me crazy back then.

“This place is filthy.”

“She loves it.”

“I had rather hoped you meant a sophisticated learning facility, not a jungle full of—”

“Children, Elijah. You have two of them at home.”

“Renee and I don’t allow for this type of debauchery.”

I close my book and slip it into my bag. “You don’t allow your children to play?” I ask, taking mental notes of his demeanor. How in good conscience would I ever agree to let him take my daughter for a week, let alone months, if she’s not allowed to play?

“In a controlled, sterile environment.”

Shaking my head, I scan the crowd for her. She’s at the top of the jungle gym, about to jump into a pit of foam balls. On the inside I’m encouraging her and tempted to make Elijah watch. Maybe it’ll give him a heart attack, and he’ll bail on her. “So boring and stuffy, like you.”

He glares at me, and I shrug. I don’t care if Lucy rolls in dirt, kisses frogs, or jumps in rain puddles. It’s a part of growing up and being a kid. It’s hard for me to fathom that this is the man that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, the man that I wanted to have a house full of children with. We’re nothing alike, and our views on parenting vastly differ.

“Where is the child? I would like to meet her.”

It’s in this moment that I decide I’m going to give him a run for his money. Had he referred to her by name, I probably would’ve called her over and introduced them to each other. Not as her father, of course, but as Elijah.

“She’s playing over there,” I say, nodding toward the massive jungle gym. He turns and sighs.

“Stop the bullshit, Saylor. I don’t have time for this.”

“Well, if you want to see her, make the time. Go on; go find your daughter.”