Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 60790 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60790 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
“No,” I admitted. “I was thinking about the first family day, and wondering if this was going to be super awkward.”
“You have to be there,” she insisted. “Otherwise, who am I going to talk to?”
I rolled my eyes.
God forbid Grams talk to anyone that she didn’t want to.
She was a complete and utter asshole to anybody that she didn’t deem satisfactory. At one point, George had practically begged me to sit next to her at every game she decided to go to because I was able to ‘keep her in check’ according to him.
I wasn’t. She still did what she wanted. She just had a buffer in between herself and the rest of the people.
“I’ll be there,” I promised.
And I was, two hours later.
I got so many nasty looks that I was nearly disappearing into the seat.
If it wasn’t for Micah, and the promise Grams had extracted out of me, then I would’ve turned around and walked straight the hell out of the stadium thanks to the evil glares I was getting.
I took a seat in my usual spot—the one I used every single time I came to a home game—and crossed my legs.
Halfway to the stadium, Micah had fallen asleep.
That meant I’d have to carry him instead of him walking, and the boy wasn’t light. He was his father reincarnated—at least to me.
Technically, according to the doctors, he was actually on the smaller side for his age. But he seemed big when I had to lug him a mile down the road.
He was also drooling down my cleavage.
It felt oddly refreshing due to the overheated state of my skin—embarrassment of what I’d overheard, i.e., leaving George, had made me light up like a raspberry.
I was stupid.
I’d heard it over and over again over the last eight months since we’d been divorced.
The dumb broad who let baseball’s sexiest man go.
Wrigley lost out on the love of her life.
George moving on, leaving Wrigley in the dust.
Furious George angry and alone, Wrigley to blame.
I was getting it from newspapers. I was getting it from random people coming up to me at my son’s doctor appointments or at his daycare. I was getting it from my fucking grandmother.
Seriously, I just couldn’t escape it.
Which became why I was able to tune everything out.
“All right, whore. I’m here,” Grams said as she sat down at my side.
I blinked, then blinked again. “Did you just seriously call me a whore?”
“Sorry, I heard some lady say that about you as I came down, and I thought it was funny. Did you not like being called a whore?” She batted her eyelashes at me.
Fake eyelashes.
“Are you wearing fake eyelashes?” I questioned, brows furrowed as I studied her.
“Yes, I’m also wearing chicken cutlets in my bra.”
“Why?” I queried.
“Because I’m going to be on national television, and I don’t want to be seen with no eyelashes and small breasts,” she said slowly as if she was spelling out the obvious.
“Okay,” I hesitated. “But Grams, you have big boobs as it is,” I looked down at her shirt. “And they’re not real chicken cutlets, are they?”
She flipped me off, making the woman I could hear two rows behind me snicker.
I turned and glared at her.
“Can I help you?”
The woman smirked. “No. Not unless you want to give me George’s number.”
I choked on my spit. “I’d rather shit myself.”
The woman narrowed her eyes. “I wouldn’t leave him. He deserves someone that’ll stay by his side, through thick and thin.”
“You wouldn’t know what to do with a good dick if it slapped you in the face. And my George is a good dick. You’re not. Go fuck yourself.”
I pressed my hand against my forehead. “Grams, this is family day. You can’t say stuff like that with all these kids around.”
“I can do what I want. I’m an old woman, people almost expect it out of me at this point,” she countered.
I just shook my head, picking my battles.
At this time, there wasn’t a kid in sight but mine, and he was sound asleep on my chest.
And, as I looked down at his face, I realized that he was still, indeed, drooling.
Just like his father.
“Aren’t you supposed to be with the other families?” I asked.
“Sure,” she shrugged. “But I went in there, and they were all too loud, making my ears ring. I have these hearing aids in, and they make me hear stuff that I didn’t even hear when I was younger. Like the young girl talking in the corner about her STDs. I decided, for the sake of the families in there, that I should probably just wait out here. If I didn’t leave, I’d probably be in trouble.”
Now I was curious which young girl she was speaking of.
Dammit!
What a time to be out of the loop!
I immediately felt like absolute shit for thinking that.