Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Sadie beamed, her eyes tearing up. “God, I was so scared you’d say no.”
“She wasn’t even going to ask,” added Josh.
“Well, it’s a lot of pressure.” My sister wiped her eyes. “Sorry, I’m emotional these days. It’s hormones.”
“A lot of hormones.” Josh lifted his beer to his lips.
Sadie elbowed him and went on. “Anyway, it’s a big ask, and I didn’t want you to feel obligated to say yes. Wait.” Her gaze turned suspicious. “Did you say yes because you feel obligated?”
“No,” I lied, praying that this one time she wouldn’t see through it. “I said yes because I wanted to.”
My sister sighed with relief. “Oh, good. So tell me what you’ve been up to.”
“’Scuse me.” A kid maybe ten years old stood at the end of our table holding a pen and a scrap of paper in his hands. He was looking at me. “Are you Tyler Shaw?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I please have your autograph?”
“Sure.” I took the kid’s pen and paper and scribbled my name on it. “You a ball player?”
The kid nodded. “I’m a pitcher, too. My dad says you were the best there was around here.”
“It’s true,” said Sadie proudly.
“He says you’re a bum now,” the kid went on, scratching his head, “but he said back in the day, no one could touch you.”
Scowling, I handed him the autograph. “Well, here you go.”
“Thanks,” he said and wandered off.
“What a little shit.” Josh stared after the kid.
I grabbed my beer and took another long drink. “I’m used to it.”
“Well, we’re going to raise our children with better manners,” Sadie said defiantly.
“It’s fine.” I tipped up my amber ale again, nearly finishing it. “Josh, what is it you do? Sadie said something about boats?”
“I’m the head mechanic at Miller Boat Works.”
“Must be getting busy this time of year. Summer right around the corner and all.”
He nodded. “Yeah, we’re swamped.”
I looked at Sadie, who taught fifth grade at our old elementary school. “And how about you? School’s almost out, right?”
“I’ve got one month left. I just hope I can keep the belly hidden until then.” She glanced down and shook her head. “I’m wearing looser and looser clothing, but I feel like the kids are starting to look at me funny.”
“So tell me about the wedding.” I finished my beer and looked around for the server so I could order another. “Since you dragged me all the way back here for it, I should probably know when and where to show up.”
Sadie sat up tall and pouted. “It’s Saturday night at Cloverleigh Farms, you big jerk, which you should know, because I sent every single detail to you already in an email.”
“Sorry. I’m avoiding my inbox.”
“You also got an invitation in the mail.”
“I’m avoiding my mailbox too.”
She sighed heavily. “I’ll text you.”
“Perfect.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You brought a suit, right?”
“You mean I can’t wear jeans?”
“No. A dark suit.” Clearly not in the mood for jokes, she frowned, studying my head. “And could you get a haircut?”
“Is that really necessary?”
“Yes, please. And maybe a little closer on the shave?”
I looked at Josh. “This is why I’m never getting married.”
“Who’d marry you anyway, you grumpy old man?” Sadie nudged my foot beneath the table. “Oh, by the way, April Sawyer said to say hello.”
My fist tightened around my empty beer glass. My stomach flipped over. “You saw April Sawyer?”
“Yes. She’s the event planner at Cloverleigh Farms, so she’s doing our wedding.”
“I didn’t realize she still lived here.”
“She was in New York City for a while, but she moved back home a few years ago.” She looked at Josh. “If he came home more often, he’d know these things.”
I swallowed hard. April Sawyer . . . I hadn’t heard that name in years.
“Old friend?” Josh wondered.
“April was the best babysitter ever,” Sadie told him. “She and Ty went to high school together.” Then she looked at me. “And didn’t she help you with math or something?”
“English.” Which I never would have passed if she hadn’t written half my papers. School had never been my thing, especially writing, but somehow April could ask me a few questions and turn my sparse, fumbling answers into sentences that made sense but still sounded like I’d written them. She always said I was smarter than I thought, and if I put half the effort into my homework that I put into my biceps, I’d be a straight-A student.
I’d dumped an entire bag of microwave popcorn over her head for that one.
And she was so good with my sister. Our dad worked long hours at multiple jobs—roofer, truck driver, handyman—to support us, and I was too busy with baseball to look after Sadie, so April was a godsend. She’d pick Sadie up after school and help her with homework. She’d make dinner on school nights. She’d get Sadie to bed. Then she’d stick around if I needed help with an assignment, or sometimes we’d just hang out and talk. I could make her laugh so hard she’d cry, and she had this way of rolling her eyes at my egotistical crap when any other girl would—and did—fall at my feet.