Epilogue

Brenna – One Year Later

“Hello, this is Brenna Sinclair.”

“Hi, Brenna, this is Jackie Houghton. I’m calling from Random House. Is this a good time to talk?”

Oh my god! Oh my god! I covered the mouthpiece and squealed, jumping up and down in my chair and kicking my legs furiously over the plastic floor mat.

“Hello, Brenna? Are you there?”

I took a deep breath and cleared my throat. “Yes! I’m so sorry – my assistant was just trying to get my attention, but now is a perfect time to chat. I’m so glad to hear from you.”

“I’m glad,” Jackie said. Her voice conveyed the same warmth and sincerity that she’d displayed in real life, a few months ago when I’d met her for dinner. “Listen, Brenna – I have some great news. My boss, Randolph Waters, absolutely loved your pitch. And we want to offer you an advance.”

This time, I couldn’t help squealing into the phone.

Jackie laughed. “I know, I know – it’s a very exciting time for you. We’re prepared to offer you a fifteen-thousand-dollar advance, with a five-dollar royalty rate.” She cleared her throat. “That means you need to sell at least three thousand copies of your book. How does that sound?”

I bit my lip. “That’s…um, wow. That’s a lot. I’m really surprised.”

Jackie laughed again. “Don’t worry, Brenna. We’re projecting very high sales for your book – that’s one of the reasons we’re giving you such a generous royalty rate.”

“I can’t believe it,” I said. “I feel like I’m dreaming.”

“Well, pinch yourself,” Jackie teased. “Because this is real. I’ll have my assistant send over all the necessary paperwork in a little bit.” She cleared her throat. “Brenna, if I may add something personal – I just have to say, you’re such an inspiration to me and all of the women in my office.”

Tears came to my eyes, and I blinked. “Thank you. Wow…I’m really not sure what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know how much I admire you. The way you fought so hard to become a sports journalist, and then the way you worked even harder to recover from that head injury…that’s incredible, Brenna. Not many women could boast similar.”

I blushed under the weight of the compliment. It felt so heavy to me, the accolades. Like I hadn’t really done anything that monumental. Through the frosted-glass top of the cubicle wall, my junior reporter jumped up and clapped. Sandy gave me a thumbs-up sign and grinned, which only made me flush harder.

“Thank you. That really means a lot.”

“Of course. Now, I’m going to have the paperwork faxed over to you,” Jackie said. “Don’t worry if anything looks too technical – you may have to have your attorney look over the papers. I promise, we’re not trying to hide anything underhanded, but some of this legalese is a little hard to understand.”

“I see. I’ll do that, thank you. Is there anything else I should know?”

“Just that we’re proud to be working together, Brenna,” Jackie said. “And I look forward to great things from you to come. I’ll see you on the publicity tour. Bye now.”

Publicity tour?

We hung up, and for a moment, I sat there in shock. My skin tingled, and my heart pounded so fast I thought it would beat out of my chest. Seconds later, Sandy jumped out of her chair and raced to my cube.

“Oh my god, oh my god!” Sandy shrieked. “I’m sorry to eavesdrop, but I heard everything!”

I nodded, my happiness so overflowing I wanted to share it. “I feel so stunned. I had no idea that my pitch would ever pan out into a full book.”

Sandy put her hands on her hips and grinned. “I’m not. Ever since you came back, you’re basically the talk of the journalism world. Not everyone goes from muckraking to being concussed to winning the Selden Ring Award.”

I nodded. I couldn’t help but beam my pride across the entire office. “It feels good.”

“Well, I’m so proud,” Sandy said. “I couldn’t be working for a better mentor than you.”

Sandy hugged me, then went back to her cubicle. As I lowered myself down into my office chair, I still felt dazed. It was hard to believe that in a year and a half, my life had changed completely.

After spending several days with Mom and Dad, I’d taken a ten-day vacation to Bermuda, where I stayed with a friend from college. Despite Nina’s advice to relax, I hadn’t been able to sit still for more than five minutes. I’d spent my time reading and catching up on the news. That was when I found myself feeling the itch to write. I’d gone to a cricket match and thanks to a rogue piece of gossip, I’d spent two weeks investigating corruption and scandal on the Bermuda Cricket Board. My piece ran in Sports Illustrated and Deadspin, and to my great shock, I’d received the Selden Ring Award for Best Investigative Journalism.

When I’d come back to New York, Nina just about threw me a ticker tape parade. She’d put me in charge of hiring new junior reporters, and then I started getting assignments that were way beyond covering whether or not some baseball player was getting laid in an alley. I felt like I hadn’t been home for more than a week at a time – I’d spent the past year mostly traveling the country, and writing about scandals and cover-ups in college athletics. It had, without a doubt, been the most satisfying year of my career.

And the cherry on top was my relationship with Rhett Bradshaw. In Bermuda, I’d found myself missing him more than I thought possible. I’d always been good at holding grudges, but Rhett really worked to prove me wrong. Although I’d never forget his major misstep, I’d forgiven him with all of my heart. We’d officially been a couple for eleven months…and I was looking forward to what the future would bring.

As much as I would have liked to avoid her for the rest of my life, I’d bumped into Riley a few times too. It had taken some prodding from Rhett, but I’d run a background check on Riley and discovered that she’d faked nearly her entire resume, including her degree from Stanford and her previous journalism experience, even at the college level. The last time I’d seen her, she’d been selling pretzels at Auntie Anne’s by my gate at LaGuardia.

I bounced in my chair, still riding the happy wave from my call. Just then, I glanced down at my watch.

“Darn it!” I yelped. “I’m gonna be late!” Throwing my cardigan over my shoulder and grabbing my bag, I darted out of the Sport Taste office and ran down the stairs. I’d promised to meet Rhett at Yankee Stadium at four-thirty, and if I didn’t rush, I knew I wouldn’t make it in time.

Diving into a cab, I passed the driver a fifty. “Get me to Yankee Stadium,” I barked. “Fast!”

The cabbie smiled. “I gotcha, lady,” he said. “Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

I sighed, rolling down the window and inhaling the fresh spring breeze as we zipped across the city. Ah, the bloom of spring and a fresh baseball season. It didn’t get any better. Especially, when you were on the arm of the best pitcher in the league. After making it official between us, Rhett’s game had become stellar.

Rhett had even graced the cover of last month’s Sports Illustrated, with the headline: “God’s Arm, Yankee Stadium.”

I’d never been more proud.

The cab screeched to a halt outside the stadium, and I dashed inside at a quick trot, panting and running on the concrete. The clock ticked four-thirty, and I gasped as I ran into the stands, expecting more noise and activity.

The field was empty. I frowned, scratching my head. Rhett told me there was going to be a special pre-game practice, I thought, pulling out my phone and going through my texts just to be sure. He told me that he wanted me to cover it for the magazine since I hadn’t done much writing about the Yankees yet this season.

But there was no one there. Frowning again, I scrambled over to the only other person in sight – a groundsman, sweeping the stands.

“Hi,” I said. “Excuse me – I thought there was a Yankees’ practice today.”

The man smiled. “No, ma’am. Nothing special.”

“Are you sure?”

The man nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” He bent down and swept a piece of trash into his dustbin.

“I’m sorry, but you’re really sure?” I shielded my eyes from the sun. “Rhett Bradshaw – you know, the pitcher – told me to come and cover a special practice, today, at four-thirty.”

The man looked at me and shrugged. “Look, lady. I don’t know nothin’ about no practice. You might want to head on down to the field.”

Just as I was about to reply, the sound of the organ blared loudly through the stadium. I shrieked, jumping into the air and nearly twisting my ankle as my heel came crashing down on the floor.

The janitor gave me an odd look. He nodded down toward the field. “You go see what’s happening,” he said. “I leave now.”

Groaning, I set off at a fast clip toward the field. As soon as my heels touched the dirt, I gasped. The organ kept playing – an oddly familiar song, but not one that I’d ever heard at a baseball game.

I’m really going to throttle Rhett, I thought as I stalked down the steps. I can’t believe he’d do something so childish. He’s worked so hard to grow into a new man. And he has. And now, he’s pulling something underhanded.

I stalked down into the tunnel and walked through the darkness and onto the field. And there he was. Rhett stood on the pitcher’s mound, clad in his home uniform. He grinned when he saw me and waggled his eyebrows.

“Rhett, what’s going on?” I demanded, looking around to see if anyone else had miraculously appeared on the field. “I left work early because you told me you wanted me to cover this special practice?”

Rhett grinned again. The organ stopped, then blasted a new selection, and this time, I recognized the song.

It was Mendelssohn’s The Wedding March, playing in the background.

As I approached him, Rhett dropped to one knee, my jaw dropped along with him. Rhett pulled a small velvet box from his pocket and popped it open. A huge diamond ring glinted in the sun.

“Brenna, I wanted you to come here because this is where we first met,” Rhett said. “And I don’t mean actually met – I mean, the first time we really met each other, that day I showed you all my pitches. The day we began to see each other for the first time.”

Tears sprang to my eyes, and I hastily wiped them away, nodding so that he’d keep going. I’d never heard more beautiful words.

“You’re the most important person in my life, and I love you,” Rhett said. “Please do me the honor of becoming my wife.”

I couldn’t speak. Emotion had a stranglehold on my throat.

“Well?” Rhett’s lips lifted and that sexy dimple winked at me. “What’s it gonna be, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” I squeaked, not even caring that he’d slipped and called me sweetheart. “Yes, yes, yes!”

Rhett got to his feet, and I flung myself toward him, wrapping my arms around his neck. We kissed, and I moaned softly as Rhett nibbled on my lower lip. When we pulled away, he took my left hand and slid the ring onto my third finger. The pear-shaped diamond sparkled in the sun, and I let out a quiet sob of happiness as hot tears rolled down my cheeks.

Rhett pulled me close. “I love you, Brenna,” he said, nuzzling my hair. “Now it’s just you and me. Will you call my pitches for the rest of our lives?”

“I will,” I whispered, looking into the handsome face of the man I loved. “As long as you retire the sinker.”

He chuckled and squeezed me so hard I yelped. “That I can promise.”