Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Zane fixes me with a stern stare. “Dude. Chill. You’ve got a date tonight.”
“I should write this down though. To share with Celeste next week when we have our meeting,” I add, grabbing my phone from my pocket to dictate a note. But the instant it’s in my hand, it’s already gone.
Zane is barking into it. “Dear Reddit Forum for Hapless Men. I went on a date tonight, but she left after twenty minutes because all I talked about were bar plans. Any advice for me?” Then he shifts to a shrill masculine voice, adding, “Dude, here’s my advice. Don’t suck.”
Eliza snickers, even though I doubt she gets how horrifyingly accurate Zane probably is when it comes to Reddit posts. I huff as I wiggle my fingers at the phone. “Point taken. But give a guy a break. I don’t have much time to date,” I add, taking the device back.
Meeting Zane’s eyes, Eliza turns her hand into a puppet, making the mouth gab.
“You’ve heard him sing this I don’t have time song before too, haven’t you?” Zane asks with such affection for her and such mockery for me.
“All the time,” she says as she points at a shirt hanging in the closet. “Ooh, how about that one?”
Zane snags the midnight-blue shirt with a floral pattern on it. Wine-red artsy flowers crawl down the front next to curling vines. It doesn’t look familiar.
“Yes. This one is perfect. Good job, Eliza,” Zane says.
I stare at it like it’s an alien artifact from a time capsule. “Where did that come from?”
Eliza smiles at me sympathetically. “I told you you’re the forgetful one. You forgot we stopped at the clothing store after a game one day when you said you needed new shirts for work.”
I scratch my jaw. “That is not ringing a bell at all,” I say, and I smell a fashion intervention. I point from my brother to my daughter. “Did you two go shopping for me for my date?”
“I just got here, big bro. We didn’t have time to shop,” Zane says, then shoves the shirt at me. “Now go put this on. Let’s see how you look.”
His tone brooks no argument.
I comply, heading to the bathroom and putting on the shirt. I check out my reflection. It’s a little snug, and definitely more vibrant than the clothes I usually wear. But I know nothing about fashion. I return to the bedroom, holding out my arms for an appraisal from the lifesavers. “This looks so—”
I’m about to say not me, when Eliza offers, “Handsome.”
“And perfect for a man trying to impress his date,” Zane puts in.
“Plus, it shows off your guns, Dad. Like you’ve been to the gun show,” Eliza adds, flexing her little biceps too.
“How do you know that saying?”
“Duh. I hang out with athletes and former athletes,” she says, gesturing to Zane, then me. “And you had guns, too, on your rookie card.”
That was ten years ago—my one season in the majors. A lifetime ago, practically. The reminder of it doesn’t sting as much as it used to, but it’ll probably always make me feel wistful. I counter that uncomfortable feeling by flexing my right arm. “Still do,” I say confidently.
Eliza spins around in a blur of girlish energy. “Let me go check.” She runs off to her room, presumably.
When she’s out of earshot, Zane pats me on the shoulder. “Listen, man. Just have a good time tonight. Everything will work out with the bar,” he says with the optimism of a man who’s been blessed with talent and luck. I’d never begrudge him for his good fortune, since that’s all I’ve ever wanted for my little brother—to watch him soar. But facts are facts—Zane’s led an injury-free life for nearly a decade in pro ball and he met his soul mate when he was just twenty-five. Luck shines bright on his side. “Tonight though? You just gotta be present,” he adds.
I blow out a long breath, absorbing his last piece of advice. It’s been a while. I never have the time to go out. I need to try to stay in the moment. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“Always am.” He gestures to my shirt, giving me a thumbs-up. “This looks good. It says you’re the kind of man who asks her out by buying up her shop, yet you’re cool enough to know not to propose to her tonight.”
No clue if that’s good or bad. “And that’s the right look?” I’m still skeptical. Been burned before on the rules of dating.
“It is,” Zane confirms. “Eliza and I looked her up. She’s very fashionable and she dresses well. This is what you need to wear. One hundred percent.”
“Done.” I don’t have time to question him more, especially if I’m going to make it to the date on time. We exit my bedroom, and I grab my wallet from the living room table right as Eliza rushes out of her room, waggling her phone. “Sent you a pic of your rookie card. You can show it to her.”