When Lily Langston goes to a game with her best friend. The last thing she ever thought to happen was being hit in the face with a ball.
But what left her even more shocked was when the guest pitcher himself, the known ruthless billionaire Hayes Gr...
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I can't do this.
Why did I think this was a good idea? I don't think I've ever been this sweaty in my entire life than right now in this elevator. I sweat through the back of my shirt and my leggings.
The elevator stops and dings as we've made it to the top. I scan my key feeling sick to my stomach and as I see my reflection, I look as pale as a ghost.
The doors open and he stands faced away from the elevator and as I step in he turns around. He stands in a white Red Sox jersey and jeans.
"Where the hell have you been? Are you not ready for the game" He yells staring at me in disgust and a brutal reality relishes within me with his reaction, he was a loveless prick.
"God Lily, did you not get James's texts? Scrap Friday night dinner we have to go to the Red Sox for press"
He hasn't even noticed I haven't spoken. He doesn't even greet me or apologize. He pretends as if our previous fight didn't exist and questions my disappearance like it was ridiculous. This was my warning sign, this was my red flag and it flew brightly.
"Sorry Mr.Grant, I'll go get changed right away" he stared at me weirdly, and without a second glance, I moved upstairs.
I was an idiot, I didn't love him, he couldn't love anything. He was a monster at best and didn't seek reality. He couldn't even face his own emotions, how dare I think we'd talk it out? But no, I take the insults, run, and come back acting like nothing happened.
I stare at myself in the mirror as I strip. I watch as the silent tears flow.
Dad would be ashamed Lily. You deserve better and you'll get that better, this is a learning curve. Hayes Grant didn't deserve my love, he didn't earn it. I had a role to play, and right now I was taking it personally.
I zipped up my blue jeans and threw on my Red Sox T. The one dad gifted me for my 17th birthday, we mocked it. Because out of all the things, the girl who's never gone to the Red Sox is gifted a shirt. My mom joked how it just screamed seventeen.
He was the worst gift-giver. But I appreciated it because it was better than nothing, it was the thought that counted. Mom was more of a shopper on birthdays. I didn't even want to celebrate mine this year.
I turn to my phone and click the barricaded voicemail button. One that I avoided for months, but now as my emotions feel untamable.
I needed a distraction, I needed to hear him.
So I scroll, and I find it.
Dad 3/14/21 00:24 Phone
My fingers linger over the play button. I walked to the door locked it and sank down to the foot of the door. Then I do it, I click play and I hear him.
Lily! You didn't answer so I felt like trying out voicemail! Happy Happy Birthday, I can't believe my little girl is twenty-three! I love you and once again happy birthday! I feel like you were just a kid yelling at me for embarrassing you at the mall with your friends- oh you're calling me back...
