Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 58437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Donovan had a little harder time with the rule, pulling me aside in the clubhouse before every game to ask for a good-luck kiss. He especially liked when I wore strawberry-flavored ChapStick so he could taste me all game. The big, adorable goof.
By the time we arrived, the party was already underway, the backyard lively with neighbors, family, and friends playing lawn darts and eating the appetizers Donovan’s mom had set out on a long table.
“Kellan,” Ricky shouted as soon as he caught sight of me.
“I swear he looks forward to seeing you more than me,” Donovan muttered.
“What can I say?” I playfully knocked his shoulder. “I am pretty awesome.”
He squeezed my shoulder. “Yeah…yeah, you are.”
Ricky flapped his arms in excitement as he led us over to his cake, which was in the shape of a baseball diamond. “Mom says it’s chocolate, my favorite.”
“That looks delicious,” I said to Donovan’s mom, and she reached over to peck both Brady and me on the cheek. His family was so great, and the couple of times we’d gotten both sets of parents together for a backyard barbecue had been really fun.
Donovan grabbed my hand as we got something to eat and drink, and then he introduced me to some friends and family I hadn’t met. Everyone was pretty gracious to us, except for one grumpy great-uncle who always gave me the side-eye. There was one in every family.
About an hour into the party, I was waiting for my turn in the cornhole game when I saw our surprise for Ricky arrive out of the corner of my eye.
Donovan had gone over to Ricky and pointed toward the side yard, where the whole team was in attendance, along with Coach, in their Pirates jerseys.
Ricky’s eyes went wide, and his hand shot to his mouth. “Who invited you to my party?” he asked in his characteristic matter-of-fact way, and everyone chuckled. They each gave him high-fives and offered congratulations.
When Devers stepped up to him with a hand behind his back, Ricky looked reverently at his favorite new player on the roster. “We brought you a special gift.”
It had been Donovan’s idea, and since he knew his brother best, he guessed he’d be as completely bowled over as he looked now when Devers presented a bat signed by the entire team—even me, the resident bat boy.
Donovan had also bought a mounting kit to hang on Ricky’s bedroom wall, much like the one he had at his apartment.
Ricky just stared at the piece of wood for the longest time, reading all the names, and it was completely endearing.
“Honey,” Mrs. Donovan said. “How about we invite our guests to get something to eat and drink?”
As Ricky led the way toward the snack table, Donovan looked back at me with the schmoopiest grin, and the butterflies kicked up in my stomach.
Yeah, life was pretty good. So much for not playing favorites.