When I get to the park, it’s almost ten and the game is in full swing, we’re at bat and the bases are loaded. Henley’s on the third base line and Conner’s on the first, coaching runners.

Seeing Henley reminds me of last night. That Tess knows she lied to her about the dress. That she’s probably livid with Henley and that’s my fault. I wouldn’t call what Henley and I have a friendship. We pretend to be friends because it’s easier for everyone that way. Keeps Conner’s inner-pitbull in check. When she finds out that I fucked-up and jeopardized the progress she’s made in mending fences with Tess, Henley won’t care about making things easier for anyone. She’s going to stop pretending.

I’m not particularly worried about her threat to ruin me financially. Not that she couldn’t do it if she wanted to, and not because she wouldn’t do something like that to Patrick, like I said. I’m not worried because after everything I did, it wouldn’t be any more than I deserve.

“Hey, stranger,” Cari calls out to me when I approach the bleachers behind home plate, scooting over a little to make room for me where she’s sitting, on the bottom row.

“Hey,” I say, sitting next to her. Judging by her friendly greeting, Tess didn’t rush home and call everyone to tell them about what happened last night.

Right, asshole—like she wants everyone to know she was stupid enough let you anywhere near her.

“What’s the score?” I aim a look at the fancy digital scoreboard Patrick donated to the park a few months ago. Fucking city council is probably gonna name the park after him at some point.

“5 to 3. Two outs, bottom of the seventh,” she says, the sour expression on her face telling me we’re the ones trailing by two. “If we can—” She’s interrupted by the crack the bat and she jumps up from her seat, clapping and shouting while the ball takes a long, deep flight to center field. Henley and Conner go to work, yelling and directing their runners around the bases while the ball drops from the sky and into center field’s glove, as pretty as you please. The batter is out but we cleared the bases, giving us a one-run lead.

“Sorry.” Cari sits back down, still clapping, the flash and sparkle of the ring on her finger so bright it’s like she’s wearing a disco ball.

It takes me a second to process what it is.

What I’m looking at.

Cari’s wearing our grandmother’s ring.

“Where did you get that?” It’s a stupid question. I know where she got it. Why she’s wearing it. I’m not even half as smart as Conner but I’m not stupid. Patrick gave it to her. She’s wearing it because he proposed.

“I—” Cari’s face crumples a bit at my tone, aiming her gaze at the hand now resting on her knee. “Patrick gave it to me…” she says, hesitating just enough to tell me I’m making her nervous. She knows I’m angry, she just doesn’t know why. “We—I mean, he asked me to marry him last night.”

“It’s my grandmother’s ring.” My chest tightens, squeezing my lungs so hard it feels like they’re about to pop like a couple of balloons.

“I know…” She looks down at the ring, nodding. “Patrick told me.”

“I was going to give it to Tess.” Another stupid thing to say. I can’t seem to stop. I can’t seem to think straight.

I can’t give it to Tess, never could, because I’m marrying someone else. Because I hurt her on purpose and no matter what happens, that’s something she’ll never forgive me for.

Cari’s face falls, her mouth going slack for a second when she realizes what I just said. “Oh… Declan, I—”

I stand up abruptly, cutting her off.

“Declan.” She tries again, looking up at me, sorry for something that isn’t her fault. She may have heard stories but she wasn’t around when we were kids. She doesn’t know me.

Not really.

If she did, she wouldn’t be apologizing.

“Congratulation.” Even if I don’t mean it, I want to mean it. Patrick and Cari have been through hell this past year and despite everything, they’re still together.

They’re the ones who deserve to be happy.

Not me.

She opens her mouth again but I don’t wait to hear what she has to say. I just walk away.