Let Me Be the One
Page 58
“Unfortunately,” the other man replied, “it doesn’t look like he’s living a fairy tale right now.”
It wasn’t just the announcers who were trying to figure the problem out. The fans who had gathered in the bar to cheer on the Hawks were grumbling about Ryan loading the bases within five minutes of hitting the mound. Fortunately, Anne was too busy flirting with the young bartender down at the other end to have heard anything the announcers said.
If Vicki had never come back into Ryan’s life, he wouldn’t be suffering now. And yet, she still couldn’t make herself wish away the past week they’d had together...or the unexpected love they’d found with each other.
The pitching coach was still conferring with Ryan, but when she looked more closely at the screen, she realized something was different.
Her body recognized Ryan’s determined look, the dominance in it, first. Probably because it was the same one he gave her in bed that always turned her insides to goo.
Even though the announcers were surprised when his coach returned to the dugout, while Ryan stayed right where he was, Vicki wasn’t.
“Looks like he’s staying on the mound for at least a few more pitches. I don’t know about that decision, given the fact that the Cardinals just sent in their cleanup hitter. He slammed forty-nine homers during the regular season.”
“This is do or die for Ryan Sullivan and the Hawks,” the announcer said in a hushed voice. “Another walk will force in a run. A home run and this thing is practically over in the first inning.”
Ryan waved off the first two signs from the catcher until, finally, he got the sign he wanted. His face was a picture of perfect concentration—and beautiful determination—as he took several deep breaths, went into his windup, and uncorked a fastball that caught the inside corner of the plate at the knees. Two great pitches later and the umpire barked, “Strike three!” giving the out sign with his hand and arms.
After Ryan struck out the fifth-place hitter on five pitches, a mix of fastballs and change-ups, the stadium became eerily quiet. And then, one more time, three straight blazing fastballs hit the corners with precision. Ryan didn’t give the batter even a hint of a chance.
The inning was over. Ryan had climbed out of a deep hole. And the Hawks were back in the game.
Big time.
Vicki cheered along with the rest of the crowd in the bar as one of the announcers said, “Looks like the Ryan Sullivan we all know and love is back.”
Throughout the rest of the game, Ryan’s determination and strength of will never wavered, to the point where the announcers agreed that it might have been his best pitching ever. Though she knew he wouldn’t get her message until the game was over and he’d finished dealing with the press, Vicki pulled out her phone to text him.
That was when she finally saw his message to her: I love you. Remember you promised to kick butt in the studio today.
She smiled at his sweet, yet tough, message. She texted him back: I love you, too. Looks like we’re both kicking butt today. I’m so proud of you.
Anne had returned happily to the studio awhile back with the bartender’s phone number programmed into her cell. Even though Vicki hadn’t had so much as a bite of her burger, she was too amped up now to eat. She put a twenty down on the bar and practically ran back to her workroom.
Most artists claimed that the end of a project was the easiest for them, but it had always been just the opposite for Vicki. The final days on a sculpture usually felt like they dragged on forever while she second-guessed and endlessly refined and then triple-guessed the whole damn thing from top to bottom.
But, amazingly, instead of flailing in these final important moments, she suddenly felt like she was mining a whole new bottomless well of inspiration.
Love.
Much as she hated to admit that her ex had been right about anything he’d said in that horrible interview, the truth was that Ryan’s love had completely changed her.
To actually know such a big love when she was in his arms and they were laughing or kissing or talking was so monumental that she could truly feel the energy of that love pouring from her fingers.
Vicki couldn’t believe she was actually smiling at her ex getting something right. Had she finally managed to move beyond her past...and into a beautiful future with Ryan?
She looked down at her sculpture. One hand was utterly masculine, the other feminine yet strong. She’d worked hard to make sure that neither hand grasped at the other and that there was no desperation in their hold. Only love, pure and sweet and real.
It hit her, suddenly, for the very first time, that she didn’t need to fiddle or worry over or doubt this sculpture anymore.
It was done. And it was good.
Really good.
She had Ryan to thank for all the beautiful inspiration he’d given her this week...and hopefully for a long, long time to come. He was her anchor, there to keep her safe and grounded when she needed him, but always ready to rise up to explore new journeys and adventures with her.
Yes. That was what she’d call her fellowship sculpture: ANCHOR.
One after the other, new ideas for future sculptures came to her. A baby’s hand held so gently in her father’s. A mother and son holding hands as they walked through a field of wildflowers instead of water. Another of the girl and boy, older still, siblings as bonded to each other as Ryan and his siblings were.
Needing to share her joy and excitement with the person who meant everything to her, Vicki reached for a rag to clean her hands off so that she could call. Hopefully, Ryan would be done with his post-game interviews by now. When she realized all of her rags were too filthy to make a dent in the clay on her hands, she got up and went into her supply closet to grab a clean pile.
She was on her tippy-toes reaching for the top shelf when she heard footsteps come down the corridor.
Figuring it must be Anne, back to dish over the bartender, and still giddy with the knowledge that she’d made something truly beautiful, Vicki turned around to greet her friend with a smile.
Too late, she realized it wasn’t her friend who had come to see her.
James Sedgwick closed the studio door behind him.
Chapter Twenty-six
“I heard you weren’t yet at the reception for the fellowship contenders.” James looked extremely pleased about it. “Everyone else is there, so it’s just you and me in this big building.”
Vicki had been so swept up in Ryan and his game and finishing her sculpture that she had forgotten all about the reception. “Shouldn’t you be at the museum?”
It wasn’t just the announcers who were trying to figure the problem out. The fans who had gathered in the bar to cheer on the Hawks were grumbling about Ryan loading the bases within five minutes of hitting the mound. Fortunately, Anne was too busy flirting with the young bartender down at the other end to have heard anything the announcers said.
If Vicki had never come back into Ryan’s life, he wouldn’t be suffering now. And yet, she still couldn’t make herself wish away the past week they’d had together...or the unexpected love they’d found with each other.
The pitching coach was still conferring with Ryan, but when she looked more closely at the screen, she realized something was different.
Her body recognized Ryan’s determined look, the dominance in it, first. Probably because it was the same one he gave her in bed that always turned her insides to goo.
Even though the announcers were surprised when his coach returned to the dugout, while Ryan stayed right where he was, Vicki wasn’t.
“Looks like he’s staying on the mound for at least a few more pitches. I don’t know about that decision, given the fact that the Cardinals just sent in their cleanup hitter. He slammed forty-nine homers during the regular season.”
“This is do or die for Ryan Sullivan and the Hawks,” the announcer said in a hushed voice. “Another walk will force in a run. A home run and this thing is practically over in the first inning.”
Ryan waved off the first two signs from the catcher until, finally, he got the sign he wanted. His face was a picture of perfect concentration—and beautiful determination—as he took several deep breaths, went into his windup, and uncorked a fastball that caught the inside corner of the plate at the knees. Two great pitches later and the umpire barked, “Strike three!” giving the out sign with his hand and arms.
After Ryan struck out the fifth-place hitter on five pitches, a mix of fastballs and change-ups, the stadium became eerily quiet. And then, one more time, three straight blazing fastballs hit the corners with precision. Ryan didn’t give the batter even a hint of a chance.
The inning was over. Ryan had climbed out of a deep hole. And the Hawks were back in the game.
Big time.
Vicki cheered along with the rest of the crowd in the bar as one of the announcers said, “Looks like the Ryan Sullivan we all know and love is back.”
Throughout the rest of the game, Ryan’s determination and strength of will never wavered, to the point where the announcers agreed that it might have been his best pitching ever. Though she knew he wouldn’t get her message until the game was over and he’d finished dealing with the press, Vicki pulled out her phone to text him.
That was when she finally saw his message to her: I love you. Remember you promised to kick butt in the studio today.
She smiled at his sweet, yet tough, message. She texted him back: I love you, too. Looks like we’re both kicking butt today. I’m so proud of you.
Anne had returned happily to the studio awhile back with the bartender’s phone number programmed into her cell. Even though Vicki hadn’t had so much as a bite of her burger, she was too amped up now to eat. She put a twenty down on the bar and practically ran back to her workroom.
Most artists claimed that the end of a project was the easiest for them, but it had always been just the opposite for Vicki. The final days on a sculpture usually felt like they dragged on forever while she second-guessed and endlessly refined and then triple-guessed the whole damn thing from top to bottom.
But, amazingly, instead of flailing in these final important moments, she suddenly felt like she was mining a whole new bottomless well of inspiration.
Love.
Much as she hated to admit that her ex had been right about anything he’d said in that horrible interview, the truth was that Ryan’s love had completely changed her.
To actually know such a big love when she was in his arms and they were laughing or kissing or talking was so monumental that she could truly feel the energy of that love pouring from her fingers.
Vicki couldn’t believe she was actually smiling at her ex getting something right. Had she finally managed to move beyond her past...and into a beautiful future with Ryan?
She looked down at her sculpture. One hand was utterly masculine, the other feminine yet strong. She’d worked hard to make sure that neither hand grasped at the other and that there was no desperation in their hold. Only love, pure and sweet and real.
It hit her, suddenly, for the very first time, that she didn’t need to fiddle or worry over or doubt this sculpture anymore.
It was done. And it was good.
Really good.
She had Ryan to thank for all the beautiful inspiration he’d given her this week...and hopefully for a long, long time to come. He was her anchor, there to keep her safe and grounded when she needed him, but always ready to rise up to explore new journeys and adventures with her.
Yes. That was what she’d call her fellowship sculpture: ANCHOR.
One after the other, new ideas for future sculptures came to her. A baby’s hand held so gently in her father’s. A mother and son holding hands as they walked through a field of wildflowers instead of water. Another of the girl and boy, older still, siblings as bonded to each other as Ryan and his siblings were.
Needing to share her joy and excitement with the person who meant everything to her, Vicki reached for a rag to clean her hands off so that she could call. Hopefully, Ryan would be done with his post-game interviews by now. When she realized all of her rags were too filthy to make a dent in the clay on her hands, she got up and went into her supply closet to grab a clean pile.
She was on her tippy-toes reaching for the top shelf when she heard footsteps come down the corridor.
Figuring it must be Anne, back to dish over the bartender, and still giddy with the knowledge that she’d made something truly beautiful, Vicki turned around to greet her friend with a smile.
Too late, she realized it wasn’t her friend who had come to see her.
James Sedgwick closed the studio door behind him.
Chapter Twenty-six
“I heard you weren’t yet at the reception for the fellowship contenders.” James looked extremely pleased about it. “Everyone else is there, so it’s just you and me in this big building.”
Vicki had been so swept up in Ryan and his game and finishing her sculpture that she had forgotten all about the reception. “Shouldn’t you be at the museum?”
