Better Than Perfect Read online

  He looked at her. Searching her face for some part of it to make sense.

  “I got pregnant.”

  She waited for him to ask for more details. To ask the one question she hadn’t been able to answer. Hadn’t wanted to know for sure. Not when she’d needed to make a quick decision. One that would change her life forever, but hopefully wouldn’t ruin Johnny’s.

  “Look, Ali, I’m sorry…” He tossed a couple of bills on the table.

  “Don’t worry about it.” She folded her wallet and put it back in her purse. “But I’m not your Ali. Not anymore.”

  “I guess you’d prefer Mrs. Harrison.” His words were neutral. His tone was not. He was pissed at her. Extremely pissed.

  “Excuse me.” She shoved her chair back and headed for the ladies’ room. She’d hurt him. And neither one of them had forgiven her for it.

  * * * *

  Johnny followed Alice to the ladies’ room. Why couldn’t he be the calm, cool, always-in-control guy he was on the mound?

  Because this was Ali. She’d always made him a little crazy. She had a way of lighting him up like post-game fireworks on opening night. She still did. Even though she’d moved on. Had a life without him. She even had a kid.

  But that didn’t stop him from wanting her. From missing her. Even more now that he knew she was no longer married.

  She emerged with her head down and she nearly bumped into him.

  “Oh, Johnny. I didn’t see you there.” She looked up.

  Her mascara was smeared. Her eyes were red and shimmery. He’d made her cry.

  Damn.

  “Ali.” He wiped away the smudge with his thumb.

  She leaned into his palm and it would have been the most natural thing in the world to kiss her. To lean down and press his lips against hers like he’d wanted to do since that day at the ballpark. Like he’d wanted to do since she walked out on him. Since the first time he’d seen her.

  He took a step back. As far as he could go in the narrow hallway.

  “Ali…” He cleared his throat, since he sounded like the oxygen in the air had been replaced by helium. “Alice, I’m sorry. I was out of line. It won’t happen again.”

  “It’s okay.” She tried to sound brave. But the mascara streaks gave her away.

  “No. It’s not.” He stepped closer. He couldn’t help himself. “I hurt you.”

  “I hurt you first.” She glanced up at him, her eyes shimmering with regret. And maybe a little bit of longing.

  Yeah. She’d hurt him. More than he could ever admit.

  “It was a long time ago.” He should get over it already.

  “Johnny, I never meant to hurt you.” She sounded almost convincing. “I was just…scared.”

  “Afraid I’d sleep with other women.” They’d had that argument enough times. She’d worried about the women who hung around trying to score with a ballplayer. Groupies. Oh, how he hated that word. And everything it stood for.

  “A little.” She smoothed her hair back, twisting one strand before tucking it behind her ear. “But mostly, I was afraid of holding you back. Of being too much of a distraction.”

  Johnny didn’t know what to say. He shoved his hands in his pockets, so he could control his urge to touch her.

  “I knew you had what it takes to make it to the majors.” She leaned closer, placing her hand on his chest. Sending his heart rate up. “I had to love you enough to let you go.”

  “Look at me now.” Johnny tried to smile. Did she expect him to be grateful? He was no expert, but he didn’t think love meant abandoning someone when he needed her the most. When he was sent clear across the country, scared and alone, competing with guys from bigger schools. Guys with private coaching, fancy summer camps, and all the advantages Johnny never had.

  “I am so proud of you.” She hugged him, nearly knocking him into the wall before releasing him. “And I know you’re going to be great with these kids.”

  “Yeah. Sure.” The kids. That’s why they were here. “Thanks again for meeting with me. For preparing the folder.”

  Which he’d left on the table.

  “Well, thank you for lunch.” She smoothed her hair back again. “I should get going.”

  He let her go. Watched her walk away. Again.

  Retrieving the folder, he flipped to the page with the brochure of the Harrison Foundation. He stared at the picture of the man who used to joke about being jealous of Johnny. Johnny had the height, the athleticism, the good looks.

  But Mel, at five-eight with bad skin and a slightly receding hairline, had ended up with the girl. He’d been the one to offer her security, financially and otherwise. She never had to worry about Mel hooking up with some stranger on the road. She didn’t have to wait to see if he’d be successful. He had a job at his father’s investment firm waiting for him upon graduation. And Mel had given her a son.

  Johnny looked closely at the picture of a younger Zach. He didn’t look anything like his father. He didn’t look very much like his mother either. But there was something familiar about him. Maybe he took after his grandparents. Most likely his grandmother, since Mel was a junior in every way.

  He needed to keep his focus. Get through the minicamp. Then get his head in the game. He had a season to prepare for. It might even be his last. He didn’t need the distraction of Alice. Or her kid.

  Maybe she’d been right all along. He was better off without her. He’d just need a World Series ring to prove it.

  4

  About sixty boys lined up with their parents at the front gates of the ballpark. Most of them brought their gloves—some quite tattered—but each wore an expression of nervous excitement. Johnny recognized the look. First-day-of-camp jitters. He’d be sporting the same expression in less than two weeks, when he reported to spring training with the other pitchers and catchers. He wasn’t nearly as anxious to get started as he normally was. He was…distracted. Alice had been right about that.

  He looked out at the group of boys and knew he’d do whatever it took to get through this week. He understood why it was important for him to be there. Baseball had been the best thing in his life growing up. The only thing he could count on. The only thing he could control. He owed these kids a chance to find out if baseball could do the same for them.

  Zach worked at the check-in station, helping each participant sign in to get their t-shirt, water bottle and a color-coded number breaking them into groups of about twenty kids each. Once they were checked in and several of the boys changed into their camp t-shirts, Alice led the parents to the stands. She introduced herself and thanked the parents for enrolling their sons in the program.

  Johnny couldn’t help but admire the way her dark gray pantsuit hugged her curves, and destroyed his focus. She’d probably chosen the outfit thinking she looked modest and professional. She looked professional alright, but sexy as hell. Maybe because he knew what she had hidden underneath.

  “Today’s focus is on teamwork, working together toward a common goal.” Alice spoke into the microphone, her voice clear and confident. She turned to face Johnny and the two other players she’d recruited for this event. “And now, I’d like to introduce my teammates, men who have taken the time out of their busy schedules to work with your kids. Goliaths’ catcher Roberto Luis, right fielder Trent Wilson and pitcher Johnny Scottsdale.”

  The kids and their parents applauded, while each player tipped their cap. Had anyone else noticed the way his name rolled off her tongue? Memories, as thick as the marine layer, settled around him. Chilling him to the bone. He recalled with a pang the way she used to whisper his name when they snuggled together watching a movie with Mel on the other side of the room. Or the way she cheered his name louder than anyone else at all his home games. And the way she’d cried out his name when they made love.

  Focus. Breathe. Let her go already.

  He felt like he was nineteen again, having only been with one other girl before Alice. He was thirty-five years old. A pr
ofessional athlete. He could have any woman he wanted. Too bad he’d never wanted anyone else the way he wanted the woman standing in front of him.

  He’d tried. Gone out with other women. Beautiful, intelligent, confident women. But when it got to the point where they expected more of him, when they wanted to “take it to the next level,” he couldn’t do it. He was capable—physically—but couldn’t quite give it his all. Couldn’t give himself completely to another woman. Not when he knew she expected his heart to follow.

  Alice continued addressing the crowd, but he’d stopped listening. He simply watched her in her element. She was good. No, great at what she did. She held the attention of everyone in the crowd. The kids and their parents, and most of all him. People had always been drawn to her. She had a way of making everyone around her feel special. Johnny had learned the hard way special didn’t mean exclusive.

  When she’d told him she thought they should see other people, he’d come to the sad conclusion she already had. He still couldn’t believe Mel had been the other person. Mel had everything—money, family, a name he could be proud of—but it wasn’t enough. He had to take the one thing Johnny had that he didn’t: Alice.

  Finally, she put down the microphone, and everyone’s attention turned to the kids and the ballplayers. Thankfully, they weren’t expected to speak. She’d let them off the hook. Told the crowd that the players didn’t want to waste any more time with speeches. They were here to work with the kids. To break a sweat with the young athletes. After splitting into their groups, Johnny took the boys assigned to him over to the left-field section of the ballpark.

  Zach followed, holding a clipboard. “I get to be your assistant.” He seemed more than eager to help. “Since I’ve been through the camp and you’re new, we thought it would be a good idea for us to team up and work together.”

  “Sounds great. If I have any questions, I’ll know who to ask.” Johnny wasn’t sure if he could spend the whole day with Mel’s kid following him around. But he didn’t want to hold it against the boy. It wasn’t his fault who his parents were.

  “Okay boys, get your gloves and make two lines.” Johnny hoped they couldn’t tell how nervous he was.

  “Um, what if you don’t have a glove?” One boy spoke up, but then dropped his gaze to the ground, kicking the grass with a worn cleat, when Johnny looked at him.

  “No problem. We have extras you can use.” Fortunately, Johnny had been given a heads-up about this exact situation. “Zach, why don’t you check my equipment bag and grab a glove for anyone who needs one.”

  “Sure, Coach Scottsdale.” Zach jumped at the chance to help. He dug through Johnny’s bag, which contained a selection of new or gently used gloves donated by community members. No one should have to sit on the sidelines because their parents couldn’t afford the gear.

  Once each player was properly equipped, they paired up to toss the ball back and forth for warm-ups. Zach carried his clipboard and trailed behind Johnny as he went up and down the line offering praise and suggestions for each pair of players. The kid dutifully jotted down notes, taking his job very seriously. He was like his mother that way.

  One of the boys overthrew his partner and Johnny bent down to pick up the ball and toss it back.

  “Thanks.” It was the boy without a glove. His shoes were worn and his jeans were a little too short and his hair a little too long. Instinctively, Johnny knew this kid had it rough. The boy served as a sharp reminder of why he was there. His job was to teach these boys about the game he loved. The game that had saved him from a life of who-knew-what.

  “Hold the ball like this.” Johnny demonstrated and then handed the ball over for the kid to try. “Now throw through your target, not at him.”

  “Okay. Through him.” The boy tried again, firing one off almost perfectly. Maybe Johnny had a shot at this mentoring thing. It felt pretty good to make a difference. Sure, it was only one throw, but the smile on the boy’s face after he made it was worth more than Johnny’s last contract.

  After warming up for about fifteen minutes, the players started their rotations. Johnny’s group started with infield practice, taking grounders and covering bases. Next they would rotate to the outfield to work on fly balls and hitting the cutoff. Lastly, they would practice base running. Sliding, leading off and tagging up were some of the more subtle skills needed to have success at the higher levels of the game.

  At the end of the rotations, Alice blew a whistle. She congratulated the kids on a job well done, and explained the details for the base running game. Each of the pro players demonstrated the rules, while the kids watched with rapt attention. Then it was their turn. She’d created a drill that was fun, fast-paced and cooperative. Every member of the team had a role and they’d need to work together in order to win. Each team won at least one round.

  Johnny headed to the locker room at the end of the day feeling exhausted, exhilarated and a little bit in awe of Alice. She’d worked hard to put together a program that encouraged and supported the youth players. She made it fun, while reinforcing the fundamentals. Her passion for teaching shone through in the attention she paid to setting up the activities, recruiting the experts, and following up on each player. She made a point to stop by each station, and comment on what she observed. She asked questions of the kids, and actually listened to their responses.

  If he wasn’t careful, he would end up falling for her all over again. He had a feeling it was already too late.

  Zach came in while Johnny was changing out of his jersey. Alice was right behind him. He couldn’t help but notice her reaction to his bare chest. If Zach hadn’t been there, he would have been tempted to show her a little more of what she’d been missing all these years.

  “So, I asked my mom if you could come over for dinner.” Thankfully, Zach was oblivious to the undercurrent of attraction between his mother and Johnny. “We could go over the plans for tomorrow and I was kind of hoping you could help me, like, with my pitching. I haven’t pitched since last summer and I’m moving up to the bigger field and—”

  “Zach, take a breath. Let Johnny think about the first question before you bombard him with twenty other things.” Alice placed her hand on her son’s shoulder. It wouldn’t be long before she’d have to reach up to do so.

  “Dinner sounds good.” Johnny wasn’t quite ready to come down from his high yet. He wasn’t ready to return to his apartment. Alone. “Do you want me to pick up some take-out?”

  “No. I’ll cook. I owe you, anyways, for stepping in on such short notice.”

  “You’ll cook?” Johnny couldn’t help but tease her a little bit. Back in the day, she could barely make ramen. But mostly because she’d been busy with other things. Like him. If it hadn’t been for Mel, they might have all starved to death.

  “Yes. I cook. I’m pretty good, actually.” She seemed a little offended. Or maybe a little embarrassed about the reminder from their shared past. “Right, Zach?”

  “Oh yeah. My mom makes the best pot roast, and meat loaf, and pasta primavera and pie.” Zach was either in on the charade or he was actually fond of his mother’s cooking skills. “Even better than Nannie Frannie.”

  “Is that so?” He smiled at the boy and then turned his gaze to Alice. “I seem to remember one Thanksgiving when the three of us came to their house and the food was almost the best thing about the whole trip.”

  Johnny didn’t mention the part about sneaking into her room at night, thankful that he’d been able to give her seconds…and thirds, if he remembered correctly.

  “Yes. Well, I learned a lot from her.” She looked away, possibly because she, too, recalled the details of that trip. There weren’t many corners of San Francisco they hadn’t turned into their personal playground.

  “So, you pitch?” Johnny turned his attention to where he needed to keep it focused. On the kid. “That’s great. I’d like to see what you’ve got.”

  “Really?” Zach beamed. “I’ve only got a fastball an
d a changeup. Mom won’t let me try a curveball yet. She says it will ruin my arm.”

  “Well, it can. If you don’t learn how to throw it properly.” Johnny remembered being his age, and wanting nothing more than to learn the specialty pitches that looked so impressive on TV. But his coach took the cautious approach. Made sure he had command of his fastball and could throw an off-speed pitch to keep hitters on their toes. It took him years to understand his coach’s reasoning. He’d also seen his fair share of promising young pitchers leave the game too early due to injury. Most of them had been pushed too far too fast.

  “Thanks,” Alice mouthed, and gave him a grateful smile.

  “So when do you want to see me pitch?” Zach asked. He was trying to sound like he wasn’t at all excited about the one-on-one lesson.

  “Whenever you want.” Johnny pulled a t-shirt over his head and couldn’t help but notice Alice looked relieved. And maybe a little disappointed.

  “Like, now?” Zach asked.

  “Sure. Unless you have homework or something.”

  “No. I mean, not much.” Zach’s face lit up. “And I can finish it after dinner.”

  “Do you have your glove?”

  “Yeah. Of course.” His tone suggested that it was a silly question. Didn’t everyone carry their glove with them at all times?

  “Okay, let’s head over to the practice mound.” He had to give the kid points for enthusiasm.

  Besides, Johnny could use a game of catch.

  * * * *

  “Do you mind if I tag along?” Alice asked, even though she had no intention of missing out on this.

  “If you want.” Johnny grabbed his glove, a well-worn model that was almost an exact copy of the one he’d used in college. It was the same one she’d bought for Zach, because he’d begged for a glove just like Johnny Scottsdale’s.

  She followed them to the indoor practice field. They started slowly, getting a feel for each other. They tossed the ball back and forth in the timeless ritual played out by fathers and sons for generations.

  Alice couldn’t breathe. And she couldn’t deny the possibility that she was watching a father-son game of catch. Only, neither of them knew it.