Ghosts (A Christian Yelich Story)

Chapter Seventy: Advice

I wrote this in thirty minutes while really hungry, so I apologize if it's the worst.

***

I watched Annie carefully pack her possessions. "Shouldn't you be packing too? You won't be home for over a week."

"No, I'm too sad to pack," I muttered. And it was true. My motivation was out the window because she was leaving.

Annie rolled her eyes. "You'll see me in a little over two weeks, and then I'll be with you for a whole eight days. By the time that's over, you might be wondering what you got yourself into." She smiled at me while folding a t-shirt and placing it in her suitcase.

"I'm never going to get sick of you." I stood up and wrapped my arms around her from behind before kissing her neck and aggressively sliding my hand into her yoga pants.

"You know we can't. I have to leave for the airport in ten minutes." She giggled before guiding my hand out of her pants and away from her.

"But ten minutes is just enough time," I whispered into her ear.

"For you, maybe," she joked. "We have a lot to do when I'm here next – finalize a nanny, the mid-pregnancy ultrasound, determine our living and nursery situation for the offseason, maybe think up some baby names . . . But I promise we'll have some fun too." She turned around and kissed me deeply.

"I'm going to miss you so much," I whispered when we broke apart.

"We'll talk every night. I'll even be a little annoying, so you miss me less." She kissed my lips again.

"The press release comes out tomorrow," I reminded her.

"And it's going to be fine. Your female fans may want to murder me for a while, but it's cool. I can take verbal abuse on the Internet. I'm well trained. Remember, TMZ hates me."

"I love you, Annie Delaney," I said softly while pulling her against me and wrapping my arms around her. I couldn't help but smile when I felt her stomach press against me.

"I love you too, Christian Yelich," she replied.

***

"Are you sure this is what you want to do?" Shaw asked me as we took a cab to a jewelry store in New York City. We had an off day, and, for whatever reason, Travis had agreed to join me on my adventure to find the perfect engagement ring. "Didn't she get pissed when you brought up marriage last time?"

"Well, I did do it while we were having sex, so there's that."

"You are so bad at shit sometimes, Yeli. Where would you be without baseball?"

I laughed. "Out on the mean streets of Westlake consumed by loneliness and inadequacy."

"Do you think she'll say yes this time?" Travis asked me.

I chuckled. "Honestly, I think she's going to throw this ring in my face and maybe even barf on me, but it's the gesture that counts, right?" I hadn't brought up marriage since the night in my apartment. I doubt she had changed her mind, but I wanted her to know I'm serious about our relationship . . . and our family.

"I appreciate a man who spends thousands upon thousands of dollars to get barfed on."

"I know this is a weird thing to do, but it also feels like the right thing to do. Anyway, I need your help figuring out what she'd like."

"I'm glad you think I'll be helpful in this department. Actually, I sort of am. I've at least done it before. First, let's Google the ring Asher got her." Shaw pulled up a few photos in Google and passed his phone to me. "It's just a giant solitaire diamond. Nothing special, but probably around 200k or something insane like that," he commented.