“Sure. And I was pretty good. Pretty good isn’t good enough. Maybe I could’ve been if I’d
put everything into it. I talked to some scouts from the Yankees’ farm team.”
“Get out.” She shoved his arm. “Seriously? I never knew that. The Yankees scouted you?
Why didn’t I know that?”
“I never told anybody. I had to decide. I could either be a really good lawyer or a decent
ballplayer.”
She remembered watching him play since ... always, she realized. Without much effort, she
pulled out a mental picture of him as a boy playing Little League.
God, he was cute.
“You loved baseball.”
“I still do. I just realized I didn’t love it enough to give it everything I had, and to give up
everything else for it. So I wasn’t good enough.”
She understood that, yes, understood that very well. She wondered if she could’ve made the
same sensible, rational choice to give up something she loved and wanted.
“Do you ever regret it?”
“Every summer. For about five minutes.” He draped an arm over her shoulders.