Page 170 of The Fall Classic

“Georgie …”

“I know. I should have told you before. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care about that. That’s so heavy. I’m sorry you were carrying all of that alone.”

“Thanks,” she says. “Think you could carry some of it with me?”

“I’d like that,” I say.

The others are all talking amongst themselves, so I’m able to smile down at her in awe.

“So to recap,” I say, “you presented to Kayla and Jane today, confronted your dad and stepmother and cut them out of your company, flew to Chicago, pitched a huge deal to the Firebirds, and already received an offer?”

“Correct. How was your day?”

I laugh. Hard.

“‘Two roads diverged in a wood,’” I start, “And you said, ‘Nah, I’ll make my own road.’”

“We made our own road,” she corrects.

“Yeah, we did.” I lean down to kiss her, stopping with my lips barely grazing hers. “And it’s just beginning.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Logan

The next morning, I’m due to get on a plane at eleven to fly to New York for our next game, but I can’t leave before showing Georgie one of my favorite places in Chicago: Millennium Park.

The park is famous, but there’s one spot in particular I can’t wait to take her to. Leaves are changing all around us, greens blending into yellows and yellows into reds. The wind blowing in from the lake isn’t as bitter as it was in yesterday’s storm, but there’s enough bite in the air to promise that winter will be here before autumn is over.

I don’t care. I’ll be heading back to South Carolina the second we win the World Series.

Georgie and I have been through a lot, but I’m excited to learn all of the normal, mundane things that are part of everyday life with someone—like how she takes her eggs or what board games are off-limits because she gets too competitive. I want to make plans with this woman, so I need to know if she can handle a tense game of Taco Cat Goat Cheese Pizza.

We’re walking hand in hand, stopping often to take selfies in front of iconic backdrops, because that’s what you do when you’re in love. I buy her candied pecans and a pumpkin spice latte from a cart, and when she takes a sip, she grimaces.

“Oof. I see why Doug’s so eager to get a real coffee cart in the stadium.”

I chuckle. “I think I like Cocky Georgie.”

She flushes. “That was rude. Taste buds all differ, and I’m sure there are plenty of people who love … Caffeine Dreams.” She stares at the name, and then clears her throat. “That is … the name they gave their coffee cart.”

I squeeze her hand, laughing. “When did you get a nasty streak?”

She presses her face against my shoulder and laughs into it. “I’m sorry! I didn’t get much sleep, and it’s been an emotional week. I’ll be nicer. I swear.”

I kiss her forehead, laughing. “I’m teasing. You’re as nice as they come, G.”

“Hey, Fischer, can we get a pic?” someone calls from a few feet away. It’s a teenage boy with his family.

“I’m not the Setup Man, but sure,” I say.

“Awesome!” the boy says, pushing his family over. “You killed it last night. Good game.” He looks at Georgie. “Do you mind taking the picture for us?”

I want to insist that she should be in it with me, but she looks so relieved, I know that would be the wrong move. She takes the picture and we say goodbye to the family before continuing.

We only make it a few more yards before someone else stops us. And that continues a dozen more times before we finally make a run for it. I grab Georgie’s hand and pull her through the park, dodging tourists clustered around Crown Fountain and cutting through the Boeing Gallery installations, laughing the whole time until we reach our destination.