Page 156 of Untying the Knot
Myla nods. “Yup. We thought we were being so sneaky. We did a green screen and made sure to practice before you called. Oh yeah, we really pulled the wool over your eyes.”
I tap my fingers on the table and say, “You realize if you told me you went to Hawaii, I wouldn’t have cared. I would have encouraged it.”
“Yes, but this was out of spite because of all your toe complaining. Plus, it was fun to see if we could get away with it. You know how we love the adventure.”
“Yeah, I do.” I lightly chuckle. “Was that the only time you did that?”
“Yes. Because it was the only time you pushed me over the edge with the complaining about your big toe.”
“Babe, that shit hurts. It’s a legitimate injury.”
She smiles and lifts her wineglass up. “Okay. So would you compare your pain to something like . . . I don’t know, menstrual cramps?”
“Oh no, you don’t.” I shake my head. “I’m not going to fall for that. Nothing, and I mean nothing, is as bad as menstrual cramps.”
“You’re only saying that because when we did the simulator, you clocked out at level six.”
I lean forward and whisper, “Babe, I thought my balls were about to explode.”
She tilts her head back and lets out a roar of a laugh. Clutching her chest, she says, “The image of you ripping the pads off your genitals will live rent-free in my mind forever.”
“Fantastic.” I chuckle. “Any other memories that live rent-free in your head?”
She twists the stem of her wineglass on the table as she stares at me. The sunset behind her is casting a picturesque glow around her, so I pull my phone out of my pocket and say, “Smile.”I need to capture this moment. She’s so goddamned beautiful.
She offers me one of her closed-mouth smiles that just barely tilts up the corners of her mouth.
I snap the picture and then sigh as I look at it. “Sorry, but the way the light is hitting you from behind, and the sunset . . . you’re stunning, Myla.” I show her the picture, and she just smirks.
“Rent-free memories? Well, obviously, when we first met, the look of confusion on your face is one of my favorite moments. The rooftop, where we were intimate for the first time.” She wets her lips and stares down at her wine. “The day you went with me to the reading of my dad’s will after he passed away, the way you told my mother off. Probably will never forget that.”
“Me either,” I say quietly.
She quiets as well when she says, “You realize that was single-handedly the best moment of my life? And sure, when you proposed was beautiful and our wedding was the best day of my life, but when you stood up for me, when you promised my mom that she would never, ever hold her strength over me ever again, I felt free. Free for the first time, like you released me from this dreary life I was living under.”
“I told you I’d protect you until my dying day.” I move my fork across my plate and say, “I might have lost sight of that for a second, but even when we go our separate ways, I will always protect you, Myla. Always.”
“You never stopped protecting me, Ryot.” The air between us grows thick, and I don’t know what to say, what to do other than wish and hope that after this time in Napa is over . . . we’re not over.
“I messed up, Myla.”
“You did,” she replies. “But you never stopped protecting me.”
Guilt consumes me as I think about her words that night.
“When you retired early from baseball, it was as if this cloud cast over you, and you turned into a different man. You looked straight ahead, plowed forward, and you walked over everyone to prove yourself . . . including me.”
How can she say I never stopped protecting her?
“You might not have needed protection from the outside world, but you needed protection from me.” I let out a deep sigh and then look up at the ceiling. “Shit, I just turned a good time into a morose one.”
“I think it was needed,” she says, pulling my attention back to her. She nibbles on the corner of her lip before saying, “I think getting this out, hearing it all, I think that’s what we needed.” Her eyes connect with mine. “You haven’t been the man I married for the past few months. Why, Ryot? Did retiring early really hurt you that much?”
My eyes dart to the side as my chest tightens.
“Look at me, Ryot.” I take a moment, but when I finally look her way, she says, “Were you hurt mentally?”
After a few seconds, I say, “I felt meaningless.” She sets her wineglass down and then rises from her chair before moving it right next to mine. When she sits back down, she places her hand on my thigh. “My entire life has been baseball. Nothing else. I spent so many fucking years chasing the dream that when I made it, I spent the rest of that time making sure I earned that spot and didn’t miss a training or a practice because I was terrified of becoming a has-been.” I shake my head. “When I hurt my rotator cuff, I knew deep down that that was it. It was the end. I was too old to make a full recovery, and there were younger and cheaper guys waiting to take my position. It happened so fast, like one giant nightmare. One day I was living my dream—with you at my side—and the next, it was all over.” And although she was at my side, I no longer saw anything but the disappointment.
