Calling It (32 page)

Eduardo Andrade? “No way,” Dorie murmured.

Though she’d met him the night of the poker game, he hadn’t really said much. And considering the man had just pitched eight solid innings, she started to shake her head. But then he threw her the ball. She would have turned to see where her family was—she couldn’t believe that they’d just cleared out along with everyone else, but that was their loss—except she was afraid to take her eyes off the ball for even just a few seconds.

They’d been throwing the ball back and forth for a few minutes, when Eduardo threw one so far over her head that there was no way she could reach. She turned to get the ball, and—

Nate.

She snapped her mouth shut and her hands dropped to her sides as he snatched the ball out of the air. She was so happy to see him that she couldn’t help the smile that came over her face. It was like the sun had just risen in front of her after the longest, coldest, darkest winter ever. At the same time, she was also irritated enough that she kept herself from running forward and launching herself into his arms. Just barely, but still...

“You’re here,” she stated.

“Yes,” he answered. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he came up to her, no doubt because he knew exactly how pissed off she was and was enjoying every minute of it.

Oh, no. She was not letting him get away with anything just because he made every cell in her body want to jump up and beg for attention. “You were in Boston last night and you didn’t tell me.”

A smile. “True.”

Eyes narrowing, she started to say, “But why—”

“So here’s the thing,” Nate said, echoing her words from last night and drawing Dorie’s attention back to him. And for a moment, she just looked at him. Stopped her mind from running and her irritation from showing and even her happiness from overwhelming her. She’d been a little afraid of this moment, truth be told. Afraid that once she put it out there into the world that she was in love with him that something about it all would fade; that maybe she wasn’t, really, and it truly was just a childhood fantasy that she hadn’t quite been able to let go.

But here, as he stood in front of her and looked into her eyes, she knew. Without a doubt in her heart, she knew that he was the man she had always loved and that there would never be anyone else after him.

“I, uh...” Nate stepped closer, right up to her. He was so close that she could practically feel his heart racing; or maybe that was just her own. “I know this is kind of soon, but I, well...” He took her hand. “I’m not sure how the rest of this season will go and I don’t know if I’ll ever have the clout for something like this again.”

Though he was smiling, he was clearly nervous about something. Which was, yes, a little strange. He wasn’t the nervous type. He was definitely more the take-a-majorly-obvious-day-off-to-hang-out-with-his-old-team/rope-in-Rico-Marcela-Robbie-and-practically-the-entire-staff-of-Fenway-Park/make-the-grand-gesture type.

“The clout for wh...?” The air went out of Dorie’s lungs. “Oh, my God.”

She took a step back at the roar of sound in her ears so loud that she actually glanced up into the sky for the fighter jets that sometimes flew over the park. When she looked back at Nate, he was nearly eye level with her, down on one knee.

Her hands flew to her face, baseball glove included. “OhmyGod.”

Laughing softly, Nate gently pried the glove off her hand. “Probably better to get rid of this before someone gets hurt.”

Eyes glued to his face, Dorie felt the tears come. If she hadn’t been afraid that she might miss something big, she would have tried to blink them away. But she didn’t want for even a second of this to pass without her being fully aware of it.

“I know this was supposed to be the pitcher’s mound,” he said, “but...”

This time she couldn’t even say, “Oh, my God,” but she thought it. Oh, how she thought it.

Looking up at her, it appeared that his eyes were filled, as well. He nodded down at the plate. “This is my home. This is the only place where I’ve always known who I am, exactly who I want to be. Until I met you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a box. A velvet, seen-better-days box that was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. Until he opened it, and the most beautiful ring was right there, its diamond catching the rays of the sun.

He continued, “I love that you’d go to your death to defend your dinner, although you’d stop and visit every library along the way.” To her complete mortification she snorted at that. It only made him smile. “I love that you’re either giving me attitude or making me laugh, sometimes—often—both, even when the idea of smiling seems insane.”

Now she was crying full-out. Oh, God.

“You reminded me what it’s like to have a dream—to go after it and keep fighting for it every single day.” He reached up to wipe her tears away. “There is no one on this earth I’d rather call my king.”

Full freaking out.

“Marry me, Dorie. Be my wife. Make me the happiest man this world has ever seen.”

Still speechless, she let him take the ring out of the box and then take her hand. Her words came back in a rush of air. “What would you have done if I hadn’t called you last night and told you that I love you?”

He kissed the tips of her fingers and her knees went weak. Then he smiled as his nod took in the whole park, from the Green Monster—although he seemed as surprised as she was that the words
Nate and Dorie 4Ever
were plastered across the scoreboard—to all the players filling the dugouts, all the people who worked here now openly staring and smiling, and, if she wasn’t mistaken, the mob of people in the owner’s box that included a very familiar-looking bunch of men, plus her mother and Claudia.

“I probably would have made the biggest fool of myself in the history of mankind,” he answered. The laughter disappeared out of his eyes almost as soon as it came in, though. “But I wouldn’t have regretted it, not for one second.”

Dorie’s tears began in earnest. “Then I guess you’d better put that ring on my finger so that I can tell you yes and kiss you.”

So he did. And she was true to her word, although, to be honest, she would have thrown herself at him in another two seconds if he hadn’t gotten on with it. “I love you,” she whispered. “I love you so much.”

His hands went to her face and he was drawing her in, kissing her like she was the air he breathed. The roar in her ears wasn’t imagined this time; it was the sound of a few hundred people cheering as fireworks went off—or, rather, the simulation of them on the Jumbotron over center field.

“That, uh...” Nate pulled away from her only briefly enough to say, “That wasn’t m—”

Wasn’t him, she supposed he’d been about to say, considering that he’d seemed as startled as she was by the noise. Startled enough to shift his hold on her, to loosen his grip just enough for her to—

“Oh, my God,” she said, hopefully for the last time in a very long while. “Did I just...?”

“Knee me in the balls?” he asked through clenched teeth. “Yes. Yes, you did.”

* * * * *

Don’t miss CALLED UP, coming from Jen Doyle and Carina Press in August 2016.

Acknowledgments

Thanks to Mom, Jessica, Johanna and Jenny, without whose early comments and encouragement this book never would have existed, and Stephanie, for sharing the 807th perspective; to all of the contest judges who put in an incredible amount of work for so little reward but whose feedback is the equivalent to a master class in writing. To Adriana Anders, for giving me the exact right push at the exact right moment; and to Anna Harrington and all the rest of the Team Sarah ladies, not to mention Angela James, Kerri Buckley, Stephanie Doig, Heather Goldberg and Andrew Low of Carina Press, and everyone at the Nancy Yost Literary Agency for being there pretty much all the time. And to the raunchiest group of ladies in the world. (You know who you are.)

To Mom and Dad, Aunt MaryEllen and Uncle Vinny, Aunt Irene and Uncle Ken, and my grandparents for proving not just that Happily Ever Afters exist, but that it’s something to strive for, and to Kelley, for giving me my own reason to believe. To Lucy, Will and James, for being so proud, even when you don’t want to acknowledge that your mom wrote one of those books.

And a special thanks to the 1978 New York Yankees, the 2004 Boston Red Sox, the Pearson kitchen and the most wonderful family in the world, all the way down to the flakiest of the bunch.

But most importantly to the two amazing women to whom I am forever in debt: my agent, Sarah E. Younger, whose belief in Nate and Dorie made “The Dream” a reality, and my editor, Alissa Davis, who managed to make both this book and this experience more than I could ever have hoped. You are the best gift a newbie author could ask for.

About the Author

Award-winning author Jen Doyle is a big believer in
happily-ever-afters—so she decided it was high time she started creating some.
Jen holds an MS in library and information science from Simmons College GSLIS
and, in addition to her work as a librarian, has worked as a conference and
events planner as well as a communications and enrollment administrator in both
preschool and higher-education environments. (Some might say that there is very
little difference between the two; Jen has no comment regarding whether she is
one of the “some.”) She currently lives in the Boston area with her husband,
three children and three sometimes-problematic cats. Visit her at
www.jendoyleink.com
,
www.Twitter.com/jendoyleink
and
www.Facebook.com/jendoyleink
.

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