at that. “Alright.” I hesitated and then tried out his name. “Doug.”
He nodded. “Good. Not that you'll totally relax, but at least you know where I stand.” He smiled. “I remember going on a trip like this with Abby's mother and her parents too many years ago. I've been in your shoes. Last thing you want to do is make small talk with Abby's old man.”
I felt my face color. “No, no. It's just...”
He held up a hand. “It's fine, it's fine. I remember. And I promise. You'll get time to yourselves when we get to Tucson. We aren't going to make you spend every waking minute with us.”
I didn't mean to, but I exhaled, like I'd been holding my breath the entire drive from San Diego.
“We'd just like to spend some time with the guy Abby can't stop talking about,” he said.
“ Oh,” I said, because I wasn't sure what I was supposed to say that. I didn't know what I could say to that. I liked that she talked about me. I liked that I mattered to her as much as she mattered to me.
“ And maybe catch a baseball game while we're here.”
I leaned against the side of the car but the heat from the metal exterior was like molten lava and I stepped back. “A what?”
The pump clicked off and he pulled it from the tank, replacing it in the machine. He screwed the gas cap back on. “Tucson has a minor league team. Triple A, I think.”
“ Yeah.” I nodded. I knew all about it. “Padres farm team.”
“ Right. Figured you'd know. Just thought maybe we could all catch a game one night while we're there. Abby has mentioned more than once that you're a baseball player.”
“ Was,” I corrected.
He waited for the receipt to print out. “Yeah, Abby said that, too. That you had some bad luck with your scholarship.”
It was more than bad luck. My dad had completely fucked me over and I'd nearly let it fuck me over.
“ But you still like the game, right?” he asked, reaching for the strip of paper inching out of the gas pump.
“ Sure.” It had taken me a while to love it again, to put some distance between what my dad had done and the game itself.
He folded up the receipt. “So I just thought maybe we could catch a game one night we're here.” He smiled. “I played, but I wasn't any good. Bet you can point out some of the things I missed.”
It was a nice gesture on his part. He was trying to put me at ease by doing something I'd be comfortable with. It was something he didn't have to do, but he was trying to get me to chill out. Which I clearly needed to do.
“ That sounds great,” I said.
He nodded again. “Alright, good. And West?”
Tension filled my shoulders. “Yeah?”
“ Keep your wallet in your pocket the rest of the trip,” he said, squeezing my shoulder again. “The week's on us. Just have fun.”
I wasn't sure if I could keep anything else in my pants for the whole week, but my wallet? I could try.
FOUR
The Hacienda Del Luna was everything Abby promised and more.
The resort was pushed up against the foothills of the mountains that ringed Tucson, low slung adobe buildings separated by pools and immaculate landscaping. The hotel staff had the doors of the car open before we'd even pulled to a stop at check-in, smiles plastered on their faces as they ushered us into the cavernous, air-conditioned lobby. Our bags were whisked away and already in our room by the time we unlocked the door. But it wasn't a room. It was a two-bedroom casita near the back of the property, a gigantic aquamarine pool visible from the back patio.
“How much does this place cost?” I whispered to Abby as I stared at the pool.
“Too much,” she said. She reached for my hand and squeezed. “But we've been coming here for years and my parents say it's their one real indulgence with the money they've made. They'll literally shut down this week and won't take calls or do a single second of work. No joke. They never do that—not at Christmas, not at Thanksgiving. It's like a retreat
He nodded. “Good. Not that you'll totally relax, but at least you know where I stand.” He smiled. “I remember going on a trip like this with Abby's mother and her parents too many years ago. I've been in your shoes. Last thing you want to do is make small talk with Abby's old man.”
I felt my face color. “No, no. It's just...”
He held up a hand. “It's fine, it's fine. I remember. And I promise. You'll get time to yourselves when we get to Tucson. We aren't going to make you spend every waking minute with us.”
I didn't mean to, but I exhaled, like I'd been holding my breath the entire drive from San Diego.
“We'd just like to spend some time with the guy Abby can't stop talking about,” he said.
“ Oh,” I said, because I wasn't sure what I was supposed to say that. I didn't know what I could say to that. I liked that she talked about me. I liked that I mattered to her as much as she mattered to me.
“ And maybe catch a baseball game while we're here.”
I leaned against the side of the car but the heat from the metal exterior was like molten lava and I stepped back. “A what?”
The pump clicked off and he pulled it from the tank, replacing it in the machine. He screwed the gas cap back on. “Tucson has a minor league team. Triple A, I think.”
“ Yeah.” I nodded. I knew all about it. “Padres farm team.”
“ Right. Figured you'd know. Just thought maybe we could all catch a game one night while we're there. Abby has mentioned more than once that you're a baseball player.”
“ Was,” I corrected.
He waited for the receipt to print out. “Yeah, Abby said that, too. That you had some bad luck with your scholarship.”
It was more than bad luck. My dad had completely fucked me over and I'd nearly let it fuck me over.
“ But you still like the game, right?” he asked, reaching for the strip of paper inching out of the gas pump.
“ Sure.” It had taken me a while to love it again, to put some distance between what my dad had done and the game itself.
He folded up the receipt. “So I just thought maybe we could catch a game one night we're here.” He smiled. “I played, but I wasn't any good. Bet you can point out some of the things I missed.”
It was a nice gesture on his part. He was trying to put me at ease by doing something I'd be comfortable with. It was something he didn't have to do, but he was trying to get me to chill out. Which I clearly needed to do.
“ That sounds great,” I said.
He nodded again. “Alright, good. And West?”
Tension filled my shoulders. “Yeah?”
“ Keep your wallet in your pocket the rest of the trip,” he said, squeezing my shoulder again. “The week's on us. Just have fun.”
I wasn't sure if I could keep anything else in my pants for the whole week, but my wallet? I could try.
FOUR
The Hacienda Del Luna was everything Abby promised and more.
The resort was pushed up against the foothills of the mountains that ringed Tucson, low slung adobe buildings separated by pools and immaculate landscaping. The hotel staff had the doors of the car open before we'd even pulled to a stop at check-in, smiles plastered on their faces as they ushered us into the cavernous, air-conditioned lobby. Our bags were whisked away and already in our room by the time we unlocked the door. But it wasn't a room. It was a two-bedroom casita near the back of the property, a gigantic aquamarine pool visible from the back patio.
“How much does this place cost?” I whispered to Abby as I stared at the pool.
“Too much,” she said. She reached for my hand and squeezed. “But we've been coming here for years and my parents say it's their one real indulgence with the money they've made. They'll literally shut down this week and won't take calls or do a single second of work. No joke. They never do that—not at Christmas, not at Thanksgiving. It's like a retreat
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