Chapter Twenty-One

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Conversation flows naturally between Delaney and me

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Conversation flows naturally between Delaney and me. I ask her about school and her degree – or degrees as I quickly learn – and we compare notes on how big cities are different from South Grove. She tells me about her friend Nico and how he saved her from getting hit by a cab on her first day at NYU. Apparently, she wanted to make a good impression and decided to wear a pair of Manolo somethings that her parents gave her the day she moved into her dorm, and when she crossed the street, her heel got stuck in the hole of a sewer grate. She tried to pull herself free, but it was either her or the very expensive shoes, and she couldn't decide fast enough. Just as a cab came flying down the street, Nico saw her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her out of the way. Shoe and all.

He was her Knight in a Louis Vuitton blazer – in her words – and now she rarely goes anywhere without him. Lucky fucking bastard.

The way she talks about him and the love I see for him in her eyes makes me wonder if they've ever dated.

She tells me about the internship she had in Manhattan, and we dabble on my minor league career and how I spent three years in the St. Louis Cardinals farm system before I was called up, but she doesn't ask about the pros. I have a feeling she doesn't pry because she knows it's a sore subject, and knowing Delaney, she's going to wait for me bring it up. She tells me about the time she got lost in Riverside Park by herself, and I scold her for trying to navigate the city alone, and we laugh about the time the team hazed me and hid my uniform, and I had to walk onto the field during practice with my baseball glove in front of my dick to ask where they put it.

We talk about the article her boss offered her and how she found out about it the same day she learned of the affair. I agree with her friend Nico that she's crazy for turning it down, but I understand her reasons once she explains how she caught Will and his assistant fucking in the same bed she once shared with him, and how she couldn't focus on anything other than the fact that her life had done a complete one-eighty. She said if she couldn't put one hundred percent of herself into the job, she didn't want it – and I felt that.

"Hey. I don't want to put a damper on the night, but there's something I've been wanting to say to you," she says, taking a sip of her beer and turning toward me. "I'm so, so sorry about your dad."

I stiffen and set down my piece of fried chicken, wiping my greasy hands on a napkin. "Who told you?"

"I saw your dad in Maribelle's and he just...he didn't look like himself. When I mentioned it later that night my dad told me everything. I'm so sorry, Grey. You have no idea how badly I wish there was something I could do."

"Thanks, Del. I appreciate that. It's been tough to watch him practically decompose in front of my eyes, but he's been in remission for a while so, cross your fingers it stays that way."

She places her soft, warm hand on top of mine and squeezes. "I'll cross my fingers and my toes."

We talk effortlessly for hours. We laugh, joke, and tease each other about the naivety of our past. We reminisce and talk about how our ten-year reunion will be this fall, and even though neither of us plan on going, we both can't believe how fast ten years have gone by. We make fun of each other for non-existent wrinkles and gray hair, and as I sit with her, I remember how easy it is to be with her. Unlike girls I've come across in the past, there's no hidden agenda with Delaney. No expectations. I can be myself because she knows and accepts the deepest parts of me.

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