Chapter Fifteen
Gabe hadn’t had much time to think about where he should take Rachel on their date, but he wanted to make sure it was somewhere she’d feel special, appreciated. Now that he was finally getting the opportunity to take her on a real date, he didn’t want to fuck it up. He’d made a reservation for a French restaurant in the city that was located on the top floor of a building high enough to see almost the entire Philadelphia skyline, and he hoped she’d like it.
He’d been a little hesitant about trying it out when a friend of his had suggested it after Gabe had asked people for suggestions. Gabe didn’t even know if he liked French food (though he liked pretty much everything), and he certainly couldn’t speak the language. He’d figured that the menu would be in English, or at least have English translations, but as he stared at the words in front of him, he wasn’t sure what the hell he was looking at. Though he didn’t think the choices were entirely in French, they weren't in English either. The only word he recognized was “grille,” even though the French version had a weird line over it.
Gabe had to admit there were perks to being a local athlete. He didn’t think he ever would have been able to score a table like this otherwise. Apparently the place booked up months in advance. Though Gabe wasn’t one to typically use his celebrity status to get him special treatment, he also wanted to make a good impression on Rachel, which he hoped he had since they were seated at a semi-private table against the window. The sun was setting in the distance, radiating a deep orange through the silhouettes of the buildings. If that didn’t scream romance, Gabe didn’t know what did. “Do you know what you’re getting?” Gabe asked Rachel, who was across from him.
Rachel studied her menu. “Not sure yet. What about you?”
“I’ll let you know once I learn to speak French.”
Rachel’s shoulders fell in what Gabe identified as relief. “Oh, thank God. You don’t know what this says either?”
“Not a clue. I figured I’d be able to understand at least some of it.”
The two locked eyes and settled back against their chairs as they placed the menus on the table and laughed quietly.
“Should we Google it?” Rachel asked.
Gabe thought for a moment before replying, “Nah. I’ve got an idea.”
When the waiter came back, Gabe admitted that neither of them had any idea what the menu said. The waiter offered to review the menu with them, but Gabe politely declined and asked the waiter instead to bring a few of the chef’s recommendations for each of the courses.
“Certainly, sir,” he replied before returning his attention to the wine he'd brought them and pouring them each a glass.
Once the server left, Gabe took a sip of the noir he’d chosen. “What do you think?” he asked Rachel after she’d tried hers.
“Delicious.”
He tried to focus on anything besides the way she licked her lips and how her eyes sparkled in the dim light, but it was a pointless effort. Her beauty wasn’t something that he could ignore. Nor should it be, he’d decided. So he let himself take her in completely: the soft curls of her hair, the plunging neckline of her dress. Once his eyes had moved over what seemed like every inch of her that he could see, he spoke again. “Is it bad that the only thing I know how to order is alcohol?”
“Nope,” Rachel replied. “I like a man who knows his drinks.” And there was that smile that he loved so much. The one that lit up her whole face, giving her these faint creases near her eyes that somehow made her even more attractive.
“Good,” Gabe said with a smile. “I like you.”
The two remained quiet, letting the intimate moment pass between them. It was subtle and unexpected. But like a soft breeze during the heat of the summer, it was also fleeting, interrupted by the waiter returning with some dishes for them to try.
By the time they’d tasted every appetizer and entree the chef had prepared for them, Gabe was stuffed, and he imagined Rachel was, too. They sampled the desserts that the waiter set in front of them—crème brûlée and some sort of chocolate soufflé, but neither Gabe nor Rachel could eat much of them.
“That was probably one of the best meals I’ve ever eaten,” Gabe said. “And the craziest part is that I have no idea what any of it was.” Though the waiter had told them in English what each dish contained and how it was prepared, Gabe had no recollection of any of it. His mouth had more of a memory than his brain, it seemed.
“I’m glad they brought out the duck. I like it, but it’s not something you order at just any restaurant, so I rarely eat it.”
“I’ve never ordered it,” Gabe said. And then, after the two had finished off the last of their wine, he asked, “So what now?”
She shrugged. “You tell me.”
Gabe thought for a moment since he hadn’t planned anything after this, which he realized now was stupid. He had the night to give Rachel a date she’d remember, and he’d only prepared for the first half of it. “I have an idea,” he said, hoping that Joe would answer when he called.
***
After dinner, Gabe had excused himself to make a phone call. He’d returned with a smile and another bottle of wine that he said they could split once they got to their destination. Whatever he had planned he was clearly excited for. Gabe paid the bill and then led Rachel downstairs and outside to where the car Gabe called was waiting for them. The driver opened the door for her and Gabe slid into the seat beside her.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Rachel asked, though she already knew he probably wouldn't.
“When we get there,” Gabe said with a smirk, looking pleased with himself. “It's not far.”
For the next ten minutes or so, Rachel enjoyed the silent ride to wherever it was they were headed. She snuggled into Gabe’s chest when he put his arm around her, and let the lights from the street and stores move over her face as she closed her eyes. Gabe’s hand rubbed her arm lightly, and she thought how easily she could fall asleep here with him.
When the car came to a stop, Gabe kissed her head and removed his arm from around her. “We’re here, sleepyhead.”
“I wasn’t sleeping,” she replied. “I was only resting my eyes. It’s not my fault you’re so comfortable and you smell so good. You only have yourself to blame.” Gabe laughed as he slid out of the car and extended his hand to help her out too. Rachel took in her surroundings and realized that they were in front of the stadium where Gabe played baseball before he retired. The confused look she gave him should have been enough for him to provide her with an explanation of what they were doing here while the team was still down at spring training. But he simply kept smiling and gestured toward a man who was waiting for them at the entrance.
The middle-aged, slightly balding man greeted Gabe with a warm hug, telling him how great it was to see him again.
“This is Joe,” Gabe said. “He’s the maintenance manager. Joe, this is Rachel, my beautiful date for this evening.”
Though the comment was said somewhat in jest, Rachel knew Gabe meant it. The way he’d been looking at her all night made her feel wanted, admired. She’d chosen the tight, deep purple dress hoping that he’d like it. And by the way his eyes conspicuously roamed over every visible part of her body at dinner, it seemed she’d chosen wisely. Rachel couldn’t take her eyes off him either. She’d never seen him dressed up before, and it was a welcome change. His fitted light gray suit accentuated his broad shoulders and biceps, and the crisp white shirt he had on under it made his skin appear a shade darker than usual.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Rachel,” Joe said, ushering her out of the cool night air. Though for late March, it was unseasonably warm. She probably wouldn't have even been cold if she'd had a light jacket.
Once inside, Joe gave Gabe a set of keys and Gabe told him he’d take it from there. He was quiet as he led them through the halls of the empty stadium. Though Rachel had been in plenty of sports venues throughout her career, she’d never been in one when it was vacant. There was an eerie calm to it that she couldn’t explain, as if she were intruding upon a sacred place.
“I feel like a burglar or something,” Rachel said. “Like I’ll get arrested if someone finds me here.” Her voice echoed softly through the cavernous hall along with Gabe’s laugh.
“No one’s gonna arrest you,” Gabe promised. “And for something to be considered burglary, you have to actually break in through force. Joe let us in, so we're good. Take whatever you want,” he joked as he opened a door to a small room with light beige carpet, a couch, and a small bar. “Starting with those.” Gabe pointed to some clothes that had been folded neatly on the couch. “There’s a bathroom here you can change in,” he said, gesturing to the closed door to their left. “You’ll probably be cold if you stay in your dress.”
“We’re going outside?” she asked.
“Of course,” he said as if her question was a ridiculous one. “You can’t go to a ball field and not step foot on the grass. Hopefully the clothes will fit. Sorry if they’re a little big.”
“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Rachel assured him as she held up the pair of blue Premiers warm-up pants that she figured Joe had put out for her. “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
Gabe gave her a quick kiss on her forehead and told her he was going to grab a few things and then he’d be waiting for her in the hall.
She changed quickly, putting on the pants, T-shirt, and thick sweatshirt. It felt good to get out of her heels and into flip flops which, though a little big, felt a thousand times better than what she’d had on.
“God, you look cute,” Gabe said when Rachel came out of the room.
Rachel looked down at the oversized sweatshirt and baggy pants. “Really?”
“Absolutely. None of the guys ever looked that hot in Premiers gear.” Gabe laughed at his joke.
“I bet one guy did,” she said.
He’d only changed his shoes, rolled up his sleeves, and undone a few of his shirt buttons. Athletic chic, Rachel thought, if that was even a thing.
She could’ve sworn Gabe blushed, but he turned toward the end of the hall before she got a good look at him. “Come on,” he said. “The field’s this way.”
Gabe’s excitement was palpable as they walked briskly down the hall. But when they approached the entrance to the field from one of the tunnels, Gabe paused, looking up at the empty stands that were illuminated with some of the stadium lights. “I haven’t been out here since the team honored me during that last game. It feels strange. Like if I step out on that field, I should be playing.”
Rachel looked up at him. She could see the uncertainty in his eyes, feel the sadness in them. It was bittersweet. “Then let’s play,” she said.
And with that, Gabe’s mood seemed to lighten. He put an arm around her and pulled her close, giving her a warm squeeze. “Seriously? I only brought a blanket, figuring we could sit in field and drink the other bottle of wine.”
“Seriously,” she said. “I'm sure you can find some equipment around here somewhere.”
Gabe’s small smile seemed to grow as he stared at her until she thought it couldn't possibly get any wider. He looked like a kid whose turn was next to see Santa. “Kay. I'll be back in a minute.” Then he set the wine down and practically bounded down the hall.
A few minutes later, he returned with a bag slung over his shoulder. “Okay, now we might get arrested. I’m not sure whose this is.”
Rachel laughed softly. “Guess it's ours now.” Then he took her hand in his and stepped out onto the field with Rachel beside him.
“You any good?” he asked once he’d given Rachel a glove and taken one out of the bag for himself. He turned the ball over inside the leather as he waited for her response.
Shrugging, she said, “I’m sure the great Gabriel Torres could teach me a thing or two.”
“I'm not sure I'm that great anymore,” he replied, and Rachel noticed his expression sober.
Taking his face in her hands, she looked into his dark eyes, which looked lost in thought. “Yeah,” she said before giving him a gentle kiss, “you're pretty great. And I'm not just talking about baseball.”
When the two broke apart, Gabe smiled and tossed her the ball, which she caught easily since it was underhand and from a few feet away. Then he jogged about ten yards away from her, his bad knee giving out a bit on every step. When he turned back to her, he said, “Okay, now throw it to me.”
Rachel hadn’t thrown a baseball in years. She’d played softball through her sophomore year of high school, but that had been over a decade ago. Her throw was far enough to make it to Gabe, but her aim was off. Gabe jumped to the side to catch it and winced when he landed. “Sorry,” she yelled.
“It’s fine,” he said before tossing it back. Rachel caught it easily since she didn’t even need to move to catch it. “Though it's probably a good idea to play and then drink the wine.”
“Shut up,” she called back with a laugh. But she had to agree with him.
Her aim got better after a few throws, and she was enjoying herself. Over the course of the next half hour or so, Gabe gave her some tips on fielding the ball and taught her how to hit. Since she liked the feel of Gabe behind her as he helped her perfect her swing, she pretended to be even worse than she was.
Not only did she like playing a game she hadn’t played since she was a kid, she took comfort in Gabe’s easy demeanor, in the way he seemed to let himself go, like the sport not only had an effect on his body but also on his mind. By the time they settled down on the blanket and opened the wine, his face was almost expressionless. It was as if the game had freed him of any thoughts that had been weighing him down since he left it.
And Rachel had to admit she felt free, too.