Chapter Text
So.
Mike Lawson was in love.
And not with Amelia.
And as irrational and as pathetic her inner teenager hoped, it wasn’t her either.
How this all starts…
Seeing Mike mope is something of a rarity.
Sure, there was the ever present immature ribbing and joking, if one saw through the defence mechanisms – but – here, at this game they’re playing against the Dodgers – he’s so obvious that the phrase ‘down in the dumps’ needs to be redefined with a picture of his face on it.
He had progressively stopped speaking with her over the last two days - ever since they reached LA, as a matter of fact. She would have taken it, personally, but she’d seen him retreating from everyone. Even from Blip to some extent.
(There was a lot of shit, to shovel between her and Mike, in a manner of speaking. Their rocky dynamic was stabilizing, now, somewhat. Mike had been pretty gracious to her after her cold shouldering phase. Therapy helped her deal with the pressure, so she didn’t feel so restless and snipey all the time. In fact, Duarte’s entry, had her siding with him – though not publicly. She liked Duarte well enough - but she had made it clear to anyone who’d listen, that Lawson was still her preferred battery mate.)
Something was off, about him - even prior to the game. Ginny was sitting in the guest clubhouse of the Dodgers stadium, scanning through the hitters list, sneaking glances at him. There was the usual hustle-bustle going on - the usual ruckus – players throwing stuff around and goofing off.
But, Mike was sulking.
(Which is amazing that she figured it out, because he was laughing at that particular moment.)
He was sitting on a chair, with his elbows over his knees and his head down. Blip was telling him something – and he was laughing. Visibly. Shoulders shaking, head nodding up and down. Anyone who didn’t know him well enough would probably think he was happy and probably just leaning his head down because the joke was funny.
But, Ginny could see from the way his shoulders slouched, the half-assed nature of that smile that he was not feeling too good.
She shrugged off her concern. Mike was a private guy. He never opened up about weaknesses. Even, if he did loquaciously ramble on about irrelevant details of his life, it was mostly bluster.
Maybe his knees were bothering him. Maybe he was down with the flu.
Except, Ginny knew it wasn’t any of that.
(He was her catcher. She spent ninety percent of her time telepathically communicating with him. The remain ten percent was staring at those finger signals over his crotch. There's a certain level of intimacy they share by virtue of being batterymates alone.)
Of course, Ginny would know that it wasn't any of that.)
He’s completely disconnected on field.
He’s making all the wrong calls and even though she tries to be cooperative, sixty percent of the time she’s forced to wave him off because he’s veered off from their strike plan.
He knows it, too.
Sixty-feet six inches away from him, she can see the way his shakes his head at every ball that’s lost to a run, like he’s forgotten what he was supposed to call for that specific hitter.
If Ginny didn’t know the guy any better she would say he seemed lost, apathetic – almost catatonic. If he wasn’t only thirty six, she would seriously wonder if he was stroking out right now.
(He’s not even chewing gum. That's got to be a sign of an impending apocalypse – at the very least.)
The ball she throws is perfect. It sails away from the bat and lands perfectly in Lawson’s mitt. Only to teeter out – because he doesn’t snap it shut in time. An uncaught third strike.
She sighs and calls for time (– honestly, it’s the first time since she joined the Padres that she’s the one calling for time!) She motions that she wants to talk to him.
It seems poetic in a way that maybe she’s growing in to her role.
Except she isn’t. Something’s not right with him.
“Sorry.” Mike says, emotionlessly, stating the obvious. “I know it’s me.”
“Yeah, but you’re making me look bad.” She says, attempting to joke.
He looks genuinely hurt. Just makes that - pathetic - face. She can’t tell exactly what that face is ( that godawful fuzz on his face covers his lips ) but – she’s rarely seen him make that face.
It feels like - he’s sad.
“What is up with you?” Ginny asks, restlessly.
He grimaces and pulls his face mask off. “I’m having a bad day.”
“You never have bad days!” She hisses. “You’re Mike Lawson.”
He looks away and mutters something that sounds like: "fat fucking garbage hauler is what I am".
“Sorry?” She ducks her head, leaning her ear to him, to get clarity.
“Nothing.” He mumbles.
She sees Al waddling out from the dugout on his way to them from the corner of her eyes. “Get your head in the game!” She barks, keeping her glove on her mouth.
He doesn’t even fight her. “Yep.” He says, sounding dismal. Then, he sighs and scratches his beard. “Maybe I should pull out.” He says, keeping the glove over his mouth. “Let Duarte take over.”
Ginny’s stunned.
Something is seriously wrong with this picture.
She tosses the ball into her mitt, and covertly digs the fingernails of her throwing hand into her palm, letting the pin prick feelings do their job.
Nope, not a dream.
She never, ever imagined facing this situation up on the mound, in the middle of a neck-and-neck game, him with that look on his face – their roles weirdly reversed.
Ginny looks down - because -the last thing she wants is the cameras capturing her nonplussed expression. She realizes that she’s got about a minute before Al swaggers in.
(As far as she was concerned – emotionally. She was still having trouble deciding whether Mike fits into the life of Ginny Baker, the player or the life of just Ginny, a regular person. He fits into both, is what she realizes during her calmer introspections. As a player, he’s her teammate, captain and one-time hero. But as a regular person – Ginny’s relieved to admit that he’s a friend.)
“Lawson.” She says. “We’re good, right?”
“Yeah, yeah.” He says, smiling at her wanly. “It’s not you, Baker, it’s me.”
“Look, I’d ask you if it was your knees, or your back, but I know it’s not that. Spill. Whats’ going on?”
He sighs. “All good.”
“C’mon, Old Man.” She says. “I know it’s personal and I really don’t want to know what you don’t wanna tell me. But...it’s messin’ with our game.”
Mike scrubs his face and sighs. “It’s this thing I have later. I – don’t wanna do it. But...I have to.”
“I’m not as good at giving speeches as you, Mike.” She says. “And, we don’t have much time, so…” She gestures for him to speed up with the bean-spilling. She casts a glance towards Al who – pure genius that he is – notes the look she throws him. He slows down his steps on purpose. Makes a big drama about catching his bad leg.
“I got a thing with my ex wife…” He says, sounding miserable.
Ginny jerks her head towards him.
Say whaaaa -? “Oh.” She says, evenly.
That dejected, crushed expression crosses his face.
“…and her fiancé.” He adds.
Ginny’s completely flummoxed with the admission. She didn’t expect him to give in that easily.
(Also - of all the knee-related, back-related, retirement-related and job-security-related potential answers she expected - that wasn’t one of them.)
“Fuck.” She mutters.
“Yeah.” He raises his eyebrows like he's agreeing with her. “I just – I’m sorry Baker, I know. It’s dumb. I feel really stupid. Okay!” Mike looks up at the sky and barks out a sarcastic laugh. “I’ve been dealing with this for more than a year now,” He says. “And, I’m usually pretty good at handling this, it’s just…”
“What is it?” She asks, “The thing – I mean.”
“Our friends. Steven and Amy. They’re celebrating their tenth anniversary today. I can’t not go, and Rachel can’t not go. I was best man at his wedding and Rachel was the maid of honour…I’m godfather to their kids.”
Yikes. “Oh Mike.” She says, sympathetically.
“I know…” He groans. “I’m being pathetic.”
“No, it’s not.” Ginny says, truthfully.
“She’ll be there, with her fiancé.” He says, grinding his teeth, looking at the umpire headed towards them. “This really..." He grimaces and snickers, acerbically, "...great...kid heart doctor guy.”
Ginny sighs.
“Any other scene, I’d call on one of my other ladyfriends, take her as my date, and flirt shamelessly, just to be an asshole.” He smirks.
“By ladyfriend you mean -”
“Groupie.” He says, sheepishly. “Yeah.” He sighs. “Some of them tend to be…” He whistles and twirls his finger around his forehead, indicating craziness.
Ginny hides her snicker when she sees the scowl on the second base runner’s face. He was peering at them, trying to figure out what they’re up to. He clearly takes Mike’s visible gesture as a personal affront.
“I’m not going to have some airhead embarrass my friends.” Mike says, groaning out as he stretches his upper body. “Not today.”
Him and Amelia have broken up, Ginny thinks. So, he can’t take her. She feels a tad bit guilty about that – but she’s also relieved. (The pressure of wondering what secrets Amelia would accidentally divulge if ever shit hit the fan again was not helping her.)
Ginny chews her lips glancing towards Al. She’s got, maybe, thirty seconds, between him and the umpire converging on them.
“So that’s it?" She asks. "You need a date?”
“No, that’s not it.” He bites out, visibly irritated. “I don’t wanna go.” He sounds petulant.
She nods.
“I just can’t…! It’s just feels…weird." He exclaims. The frustration is evident in his voice. "She’s happy with someone else. I hate seeing that!”
“It’s not stupid.” Ginny says. “Old Man!” She grabs his shoulder and shakes it. “It’s not stupid. Of course, it gets in your head! You’re entitled to feel.”
“You sound like a therapist.”
“Actually,” Ginny snorts, dropping her hand to brace her waist. “I sound like my therapist.”
Mike’s face relaxes a little; he starts chuckling.
“What is going on?” Al drawls, waddling up. “Lawson, is it your knees? Do I need to pull ya?”
“No, he’s fine.” Ginny says, quickly. Mike shoots her a disapproving glower. “I read him wrong.” Ginny says, looking at Al.
“On all six balls?” Al looks at her like she’s being ludicrous.
Mike gives her a look.
“Skip, give us this inning.” She insists. “Please! We’ve got this.”
“Baker.” Mike sighs, he turns to Al – undoubtedly about to plead for an exit.
“Stop lollygagging and get your ass in the catcher’s box!” She commands fiercely.
Al looks impressed at her outburst, puts his hands up when Mike looks to him for support.
“Rookie.” Mike says, sternly. “I’m the captain, here. I give the orders.” Then he frowns and grimaces. “Lollygagging?”
“What?” She shrugs. “I know big words. I finished high school with a 4.0 GPA, Old Man!”
“Lollygagging.” He repeats, as though he’s trying to feel the word around in his mouth. “I like that word.” He says, nodding at Al, before he walks back to the catcher’s box.
She smiles and shakes her head.
Unfortunately, the home team scores two runs.
“Hey!” She says, standing over him, while he shoves his batting gloves on. “I’ll come.”
He stops with the left glove, looks up at her, squinting when the sun hits his eyes.
“What?”
“To your dinner thing. I’ll be your date.”
“No.” He says, shaking his head.
She shrugs. “Look, it’ll be better than having some stranger there.”
“Nope.” He answers, adjusting his glove.
“C’mon! I know it’ll suck.” She says, keeping her voice deliberately low. “But it might suck a little less if you’ve got a friend there.”
“Nope.”
“I owe you one.”
“You do?” He looks up, seems intrigued.
“Dinner with my mom…” She makes a pissy face, baring her teeth. “And Kevin.” She makes a funny gagging noise when she says Kevin’s name.
Mike’s moustache moves to one corner. She really hates that beard; she can never make out what his lips are up to. The look in his eyes, implies contemplation but it could also mean that he’s trying not to smile.
He hands her his right glove and reaches for something in his pocket.
Ginny smiles.
At least, the gum is out.
She takes some comfort in that.
He redeems himself at bat. Strikes one outside the park home run and helps the other two guys score two runs. It makes all the difference to their team morale.
She uses that - and puppy dog eyes - to convince Al to let her pull off one more inning with Mike before he switches him out with Duarte.
Mike doesn’t verbally object but he looks unhappy about her trying to buffalo him around the game. She expects him to reprimand her as they walk up to the diamond.
He doesn't.
“So – they have two kids.” He says, surprising her. “The girl’s a big fan of yours. She’ll probably attach herself to your leg. Is that cool?”
“How old is she?”
“Six.”
“That’s cool.” Ginny says, trying to sound casual albeit the victorious feeling surging, inside.
“There will be two other couples there. Amy’s sister and her husband. And the other couple, they are Rachel and Steve’s colleagues from work. They’re all actually closer to Rachel and…” He makes a bitter face when he says: “…the, the guy. As well.”
“Sounds like you’re outnumbered.” She comments.
He must understand the look on her face because he sighs. “Yeah, she got our friends in the divorce, too.”
Ginny winces at him, sympathetically.
“You really don’t have to do this, y’know.” He says. “It’s my problem.”
“Well, if Moms love you, kids love me.” She shrugs. “I’d say we’re even.”
For the first time that day that fetching, charming grin graces his face.
“Amy and Steve are big fans, too.” He says, sounding perkier. “I mean, I think, they’ll be happy if I brought anyone with a brain but – they’ll be really excited if you come. I might not even have to buy them a gift.”
She giggles. “So, I guess that means I’m coming?” She says, wondering why she's excited all of a sudden.
“Only ‘cause you stuck me with the bill at the whole Mom-Kevin thing.” He says, raising an eyebrow at her pointedly. The corners of his mouth widen and a good-natured smile lifts his cheekbones.
“Of course.”
“I mean, 'cause you owe me one.”
He looks so cute when he says that. It’s like when he overdoes the exercise reps at the gym because he doesn’t want to admit his stamina is lower than hers.
“Yeah, totally.” She says, smiling as they diverge, going to their respective boxes.
They send two hitters packing. The first one is a flyout – that lands in Mike’s glove in a brilliant duck and dive. Voorhies and Blip get the first base runner at the next pitch.
Mike jogs up to the mound as they wait for the next hitter.
“Are you sure?” He asks, looking hesitant. “Don’t you have some party to crash or commercial to shoot later?”
She shrugs.
“Not even a suburban pool to slam dunk in?” He says, cocking his head.
His hazel eyes twinkle - Ginny sucks in a breath (because well – yeah, it makes her feel ally girly and giggling when he looks at her like that.)
“Nope.” Ginny says, grinning. “Unless there’s thousand dollar dress you’d like me to ruin.” Then she frowns, when something occurs to her. “Hey!” She says. “What’s the dress code…?”
He huffs and shakes his head as he jogs back. “I don’t know.” He shrugs. “I think it’s some level of formal.”
Uh oh.
They’re leading 7 to 5.
“I uh…” She mutters as she sits beside him, nodding a ‘good luck’ at Salvamini as he goes to bat. “Have a problem.”
“It’s cool, Baker. I told ya. You don’t have to…” He starts to say.
“Clothing related.” She says, quickly.
“Excuse me?” He winces.
“Can you believe, I don’t have anything to wear? I didn’t have any commercial or PR commitments on this trip. I hate carrying extra luggage and I didn’t bring anything for a formal occasion.”
His facial expressions don’t help the situation.
“I’ll borrow something. To wear.” She says, “I’m sure Amelia can arrange…”
“Baker, you really don’t have to.” He sighs. “What I mean is...wear whatever you have.”
“All I got is regular clothes. Even my jeans are really lame. The only social thing I had planned involved pizza, beer and cheesy rom-coms with my friend Cara.”
He frowns at the mention of Cara’s name, shakes his head and opens his mouth. She cuts him off with a meaningful expression. “That was yesterday. Don’t worry. I’m not changing any plans for you. I’m free, tonight, okay?" She looks at him, reassuringly. "I’ll find something. It’ll be nice to wear something for a grownup party without having to worry about it being a publicity op.”
“Grownup party.” He snickers, shaking his head. “Yeah, I guess it is. Don’t be so sure on the publicity though.” He snorts. “Steve is a PR exec. Nothing’s beneath him.” He scratches his beard.
Ginny shrugs her eyebrows.
“Listen,” He says. “If it’s that big a deal for ya – I know this lady, in downtown LA. It’s her private label. Her son and I played together in the minors. You tell her your size and she’ll come by to the hotel. I mean, I used to buy stuff from her all the time, for Rach…” He trails off – his face freezing.
Ginny feels her heart clench for him.
“You know what?” Ginny says, cheerfully. “What say we kick their sorry asses real quick and you take me to that store. I’ll even endorse the label – if it’s good.”
“That’ll really piss my ex off.” Mike says, looking uncertain.
Ginny notes how painful it for him to say Rachel’s name.
“She’s sort of prides in that store as her little secret.” He adds, looking away.
“Exactly.” Ginny smiles, smugly.
Mike looks confused and then narrows his eyes at her.
“Huh.” He snorts. “Who’d have thunk?”
“What?”
“Meano Ginny Baker.”
“I’m not a meano.” She makes a face.
“Oo -kay.” He says, tipping his head and chewing his gum like he doesn’t believe her.
His smiles are getting more frequent now.
They’re at the top of the ninth and the game is looking good.
“You want meano?” She gives a bratty smirk, tossing the powder bag around. She points to the upcoming hitter. “I played with that guy in Texas.”
“Who? The new guy? Whatshisname?”
“Michelson. Kovak’s relief.” She nods. “He’s got a powerful swing, but he’s got a weak left foot. Gets real wobbly when he launches.”
“Yeah?” Mike says, glancing at him and then back at her. “How come you’re so sure?”
“I might have fractured a teensy weensy bone in his foot…” She says, trying to sound innocent, looking away. “…by mistake.”
“By mistake?” Mike looks at her suspiciously, chewing his gum. He’s starting to behave like the Mike she knows: Brash, hilarious – always trying to smile or make others smile.
She shrugs.
“What did you do?” Mike groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, making a visible effort not to grin.
“What?” She says, sounding a little screechy. “He was a jerk!” She emphasizes. “He said the only balls I should be throwing are…” She shrugs.
Mike frowns, glances to her chest instantly and then looks away sheepishly.
“You get it.” She states.
“I get it.” He says, shaking his head at her. “So, I’m thinking we’re getting him with sliders?”
“And a curve.” She says. “Just for fun.”
“Meano Baker.” He mutters.
“You should go now.” She says, nodding up at him.
He frowns.
“I mean, y’know.” She sasses. “People are gonna start talking.”
He leaves a warm, carefree laugh in his wake.
Blip and his big fat mouth.
“You’re going on a date with Mike Lawson?” Evelyn hisses over the Skype feed.
“It’s not a date!” Ginny yells while showing her the dresses. “It’s just dinner.”
“With his friends. That’s not even a date – that’s what you do after you’re dating and you’re officially in a relationship. And let’s be clear – months into a relationship.”
“But, it’s not like that.”
“Then why isn’t Amelia here? Helping you out?”
“I haven’t told her. Look, Evie – I’ve finally negotiated some personal time to do things the way I want. If she hears I’m going to meet Rachel Patrick, she’ll hijack my entire wardrobe. Probably, make me wear a business suit.”
“Maybe the one with the jacket is nice.” Evelyn says, abruptly.
“Yeah, I like that one too. It’s simple.”
“So…” Evelyn says, sounding suspicious as Ginny strips down to try the dress with the jacket. “He knows some fashion designer, who’s just willing to loan you pieces from her exclusive collection?”
When Ginny shows her a purple dress, Evie squeals. “Ooh girl! Lordy Lordy, that don’t sound like no casual dinner…!”
“Mrs. Sebastiano, is a middle class seamstress with her own label.” Ginny says. “And I’m buying it. It’s not even hot cotooring.”
“Haute couture.”
“Whatever.”
“Well, I’ll be sure to pay Mrs. Sebastiano’s store a visit, the next time I’m there, Gin. I love all three.” She huffs out, like she’s fed up or pestering. “Okay. Fine! If you say it’s not a date…”
“It’s not. Mike Lawson would never date me.” Ginny murmurs, checking the purple dress against her body.
“You mean, you would never date Mike Lawson.”
“Yeah, that’s what I meant.”
“Actually I think the technical term is you two can’t date each other. Because you’re on the same team. Also because you’re the first female MLB player and y’know….the Trevor thing.”
“Yeah.” Ginny says, turning around. It feels awkward, now that she really doesn’t care about all of that anymore. She finds it strange that her mind has space to think about new things: positive things.
“Okay. Fine!” Evelyn sighs. “What are we looking at here? How many people?”
“Private dinner party at a house. His ex, her fiancé…”
“Ouch.”
“The hosts, two other couple friends.”
“Are we making Rachel jealous?”
“No!” Ginny says. Then she pouts her lips, considering the idea.
“Are you sure?”
“Of, course I am..”
“Mmhmm. At a dinner with old friends…?”
“Do I want to make her jealous? For Mike’s sake. I mean – it looks like he’s still hung up on her.” Ginny sighs.
“Yeah.” Evelyn sounds sad.
Ginny frowns at Evelyn’s grainy video image on the screen. “How was she – like…you know in person? When they were married? You met her a couple of times.”
Evelyn clears her throat and says. “Why don’t you wear the purple one? It’s really your colour. Doesn’t scream girlfriend, and doesn’t seem like you’re the friendzoned tagalong.”
“I am the friendzoned tagalong.” Ginny says. “And - I’m cool with that. Makes me feel like a normal person. It’s nice to go for someone else’s thing and not have it be about me. Let me wear the purple and show you.”
She changes into the dress, preening in front of the mirror. She agrees with Evie. (But, maybe the dress is too flattering? )
There’s a whistle from the other end. “I love it!” Evie squeals.
Ginny smiles and twirls in her spot, checking to see if it flies up.
“Be careful of Rachel, okay.” Evelyn says, while Ginny’s busy checking for potential up-skirt problems. “Blip isn’t kidding when he says that Mike loses his head around her.”
Oh.
“I did not say that!” She hears Blip yelling.
Seems like, he’s reached home.
“Damn!” Blip’s voice resounds louder. He appears in the video and kisses Evelyn’s head. “Ginny, girl! You look fine!”
“Thanks, how was the bus?”
“Everyone’s pumped. When are you two getting back?”
“We’ll drive down tonight, I think.” She shrugs.
“Y'all better decide on one of you being the designated driver." Blip says. "Hey, Ginny! Hint. it’s not gonna be Mike.”
“He says he doesn’t plan to drink. Says, his car’s too precious.”
“He always say that - and then he see his ex – an' hot damn!" Blip narrates in one breath. "We have ourselves a screechy walking talking bearded totin’ jukebox, high on bourbon.”
Ginny regards Blip's face on the viewport of her Skype program. She's starting to think this whole plus-one thing isn't such a good idea.
“Too much boob?” Ginny says to Evelyn, distracting herself, leaning into the camera.
“Perfect boob.” Evelyn says.
“Okay, and I’m gone.” Blip makes a gross face and disappears.
“I feel like a grown up.” Ginny smiles. “Do you think I should wear that white jacket with this one?” Ginny asks, looking at the computer screen.
Ginny cannot make out if Evelyn’s scheming or frowning but she knows for a fact that, that look does not bode well. “Nah.” Evelyn says. “Wear that lipstick, I bought you. And those dangly earrings.”
“Won’t that be too dressy?”
“I think you both could use a little dressy.”
Mike’s waiting for her at the hotel lobby. Despite the hick beard, Ginny thinks that he looks spiffy in a semi-formals. He’s a tad leaner these days; having gotten into a serious fitness zone, determined not to go down without a fight.
He nods at her nervously and Ginny feels a twinge of disappointment that there’s no appreciation on the dress.
But, then again, this isn’t a date – she shouldn’t take his unaffected looks seriously.
(But, then again, she took some effort. She wore lipstick, for crying out loud!)
“Thanks for the…” She motions to her dress, as they wait on the valet to drive his car up.
He sighs and nods. “Yeah. Mrs. Sebastiano was only too happy when she heard you’d wear her clothes.”
“She’s a nice lady.” Ginny says.
“Her son was a great guy.”
“Was?”
“Died in a car accident, ten years ago. He was a pitcher, like you.” He says absentmindedly, as the car comes up.
A shiver runs down Ginny’s spine. Her feet seem like they’re stuck. She feels like something heavy is sitting on her chest.
“Baker?”
“Yeah.” She says, gathering herself and forcefully slowing her breathing. He’s standing at the driver’s side, looking at her expectantly.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” She says, wiling herself to move; her body cooperates, for once.
“I appreciate what you’re doing here, Rookie.” He says, as she walks around to the passenger side. “But – you really don’t have to. I’m sort of feeling better now, after the win. I can deal with it.”
“Mike, I’m fine.” She bites out. “I’m just – I’m uncomfortable in heels, okay.”
He looks at her like he doesn’t believe her, but he accepts her answer without complaint.
He’s so quiet in the car it’s creepy.
He’s also driving at a million miles per hour. Ginny sucks in her breath, bracing the window and a point comes where she’s convinced she’s going to die. She squeezes her eyes shut as he turns at a curb.
It’s just about the time when her stomach starts to feel queasy, like on a roller coaster, that she hears him call to her. “Baker!”
“Yeah?” She says, pursing her mouth, keeping her eyes closed.
She feels the car slowing down and she breathes a sigh of relief; her eyes flutter open to find him, smirking at her.
“Why didn’t you tell me it was too fast for you?” He says, snorting the words out between small chuckles.
“Have we reached?”
“No.”
“Erm –“ She squawks. “You uh – were the driving the car, and I’ve learned better than to distract self-destructive lumberjacks who think they’re formula one racers."
"Lumberjack?" He echoes.
"Also, you’re the captain.”
He looks at her like she’s insane. She grins at him. He starts laughing straightaway and shakes his head. He sighs out and looks at the road. “I’m sorry,” He says. “I’m just – I am not looking forward to this.”
“I understand.” She says and then sighs. “Mike?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re still in love with her, aren’t you?”
The whites of his eyes start glistening.
“Is that what Amelia was about?” She asks. “I’m sorry, it didn’t work out with her.”
“No, you’re not.”
“You’re right, I’m not. But only ‘cause it was getting weird.”
“I don’t blame you, Baker.”
Ginny sighs. “Y’know what? forget I asked.”
He looks away.
“Yeah. Yes.” He chokes out. “I’m still in love with her.”