Jordan (Season Two: The Ninth Inning #5) (8 page)

“I...I…” I growl in frustration. “You’re a jerk, Jordan Johnson! You do nothing but piss me off.”

“I didn’t hear you say I was wrong.”

“I’m fine. I’m
fine
. Do you want me to say it again so you’ll understand? I. Am. Fine. You need to move on.” My blood is running through me hot, and it’s fueled by my anger.

“You can say you’re fine all you want, Heidi, but it doesn’t make it true. Have you not been listening to anything I’ve said? There is no moving on for me. If you’re fine and you want us to be over, then you get to move on. Do you still wear your ring? I do, but if you’re so fine and want this divorce, you probably need to start with taking that off.”

“I have the ring still. Um...you know...to sale someday.” I need to learn how to lie better. I would never sell the ring. I couldn’t do it to him or me.

“You’re going to sell it? Do we need to call Mr. Armstrong to make sure we settle that too? And you never answered my question. Are you wearing it right now?”

I close my eyes. He would know the truth. “Yes, but…” I try to think of a reason of why I still have it on, and nothing comes to mind.

“Why are you wearing it if you don’t love me anymore? If you wish we weren’t married?”

“If I wanted to stay married, do you think I would have started the divorce or met with Mr. Armstrong? We are over and in a few short weeks, it’ll be official. Okay? Can’t you understand it?” I feel as if I’m beating my head against the wall with him.

“No! I can’t. You keep saying you want this, but other than the damn lawyer and arbitrator, you aren’t acting like you want it. Why are you even calling me? To tell me you’re selfish? We’ve already established that I know that very well. To complain and argue with me? What’s the point? You’re fine and happy, remember? You don’t need me anymore.”

“Yep. I’m great and let me show you how much.” I end the call.

Good looks. Check.

Good job. Check.

Nice body. Double check.

It’s all ruined when he thinks I will hand over my phone number just because he rattles off how much money he makes and he knows how hot he is.

“Not happening.” I unsnap the apron and brush off the hair on his neck.

“Come on. You know you want my number.” He stands. He’s several inches taller than I am, but it doesn’t make me back down.

“You owe me twelve dollars for the haircut.” I turn my back on him and stroll to the register. I can feel him checking me out, but I pretend I don’t care even if my stomach is flipping over his brown eyes. If only he didn’t have an attitude problem.

He pulls out a fifty and slides it across the counter. “You can give me your name since I’m giving you a big tip.”

I slam his change on the counter. “I don’t need it; therefore, I don’t need to give you my name or number.”

He pushes it back to me. “Then keep it for being so damn pretty.”

A giggle bubbles out of me and I feel my cheeks burning. I click my tongue a couple of times and try to compose myself. “It’s Heidi.”

“Well, Heidi, I’m Jordan.” He reaches his hand out and from that moment, my life is never the same.

“Heidi. Heidi.”

“Huh? What?” I look over at Dad. “Did you say something?”

Dad chuckles. “I asked you if you want a hot dog.” He points to the vendor standing next to me.

“No, thank you.” I smile politely at the man and he moves on.

Dad pats my knee. “Why are you so nervous?”

“I’m not.” I adjust my sunglasses and keep my attention out on the baseball field.

“Do you remember all the baseball games we’ve been to?” Dad asks nostalgically.

“Yes. You’re the reason this is my favorite sport.” I have always loved baseball. I hate to say it, but when Jordan told he was a baseball player, it was a turn on for me.

As a young girl, Dad and I would watch baseball on TV all the time. No matter who was playing, we would watch. It’s where most of my memories with Dad revolve. That, and sort of working on cars. I don’t know too many girls who can change their oil or their tire. However, he now works on the cars with Jordan and I am glad they have each other since I’m not going to ruin my manicure these days.

“I wish you would have let me tell Jordan about us coming to this game.”

“No,” I quickly cut him off. “I just want to enjoy this game without him reading more into it.”

“What do you mean?”

I give Dad the same look Mom gives me when I ask a dumb question. “If he knows I’m here, then he’ll think I want him back. And I don’t want him back.”

“So you keep saying,” he mumbles.

I sigh. “I don’t, okay? We had our time together and now that time is over. Why can’t you and Mom understand that?”

“Heidi.” His tone makes me turn my attention back to him. He has what I call the Dad Look. “Your mother and I are aware of the actions you’ve taken to gain your divorce. Nonetheless, we can’t turn off our feelings, and we think of Jordan as a son, and we want you both to work this out.”

“Dad,” I say more softly. “It’s over. I’m fine and once Jordan accepts it, he’ll be fine too. The right woman is out there for him, but it’s not me. I thought I was, but I was wrong.” I try to stay strong and let it show in my voice. I’m right, but deep down, a very tiny piece of me wishes I still loved him.

“Heidi, I just want you to make sure you’re making the right decision. I can’t imagine what you and he went through with Eden. I can’t even think of how a parent wakes up everyday after losing a child. I know the deep hurt and pain I felt losing her, and I wish there was some way I could take the pain away from you and Jordan. And don’t get mad at me, but you two make a better team together, not separate.”

I don’t answer him. Instead, I turn back to watch the game just as the Angels take the field. My eyes find Jordan right away. He’s tossing the ball around with Trent Baker and Colby Wilson. He seems close to them and it’s nice to know he is close to his teammates. I’m sure when I left him, it was hard because we had just moved here.

The game is about to start and Jordan jogs out the shortstop position. Even though we are high up in the stands, I can still see the seriousness on his face. The same look he always wears when he plays.

I remember the first time he was called up from the minors. We were engaged and close to our wedding, but when he got the phone call, he picked me up and swung me all around our apartment. He had the brightest smile on his face. I saw that same smile on his face two other times in our relationship. Once when we got married and the other when I told him I was pregnant.

I remember all the fun times with Jordan. The hikes, bike rides, trips, and most of all, the time at the beach house. We would go as often as we could. In the offseason, we wouldn’t leave. Dad and Mom would drive down and it was the same happiness. Dad and Jordan spending hours in the garage Jordan had built for the cars. Mom and I would sit on the porch watching the waves, listening to the families on the beach, and soaking up the sun.

It’s perfection.

Was.

I have to remind myself when I go back to the beach house, it is quiet and I can be alone.

The game continues and I watch each pitch, each hit, each steal, yet I don’t clap, cheer, or even...
whoop
. When Jordan takes the plate, I watch his stance, the same since I’ve known him. He does well, but it’s not the same as before. I can tell there’s something different, but I can’t put my finger on it. The whole game I try to figure it out, but there’s something wrong.

“I’m going to go,” I tell Dad and gather my purse.

“There’s still an inning left.”

“I want to go in case there’s some possible way Jordan might see me.” I kiss his cheek. “Love you.”

I rush off and head out of stadium. My mind shouldn’t be on Jordan. We’re just a few weeks away from our divorce being finalized, but there’s something wrong with him, and I don’t want him to be upset. I know I told him I’m selfish, but I do care for Jordan, and I always will. But something is off and I don’t like it.

WITH A DEEP breath, I open the door to Above a Dream salon. Before when it was obvious Heidi was avoiding me, I either didn’t cut my hair or I went to some place one of the guys recommended. But now, with so much on the line, Heidi can suck it up.

“Can I help you?” the receptionist asks with a bright smile.

“Yeah, I’m Heidi’s three o’clock appointment.”

Her brow wrinkles as she frowns. “You’re Jordan Johnson, not Timothy Johnson.”

“My middle name is Timothy, and I wanted to surprise Heidi.” I give her a charming smile.

She laughs softly. “Oh, she’ll be surprised. Let me go see if she’s ready for you.”

“Hey,” I say before she walks away. “Don’t tell her it’s me.”

She nods and a moment later, Heidi walks out from the back. She stops and stares at me as I grin at her. The receptionist nudges her forward and soon, her surprise turns angry as she stands before me.

“What are you doing here?”

I run my hand through my hair, lifting a few of the long strands. “I need a haircut.”

“Too bad. I’m about to have client.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m your client.”

Her eyes narrow when the receptionist confirms it. Heidi sighs before turning and motioning me to follow her. I can’t tell if her co-workers are excited about me being here or not, but they are definitely stealing glances. I take a seat and she places the cover around my neck.

She’s quiet as she begins to work. I decide to give her two minutes to herself. I’m surprised when she speaks first.

“Who has been cutting your hair?”

“Some guy downtown that Colby suggested. I missed you though.” In more ways than one. It’s been so long since she’s touched me that I love the small touches just from the act of her cutting my hair way too much.

“Aw,” one of the nearby girls says, and I laugh when Heidi glares at her.

“Your dad told me you came to my game.”

Her eyes snap to mine in the mirror.

“You didn’t have to hide it from me. I know you’re a fan of the game, and you should be able to go if you want to. I won’t get any funny ideas like how you love me.”

“I still didn’t want you to know, and he shouldn’t have told you.”

“Well, he technically didn’t. I overheard him talking to Gemma.” I pause and she seems a little less tense. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah.”

How informative. “Are you still going to cut my hair after the divorce?”

“Shit!” She moves around me to the sink. I’d spoken just as she was about to cut and she snipped her fingertip in the process.

I stand and gently grab her hand, turning on the water. “You okay?”

“Yes,” she breathes. God, she’s so close and I just want to pull her against me and kiss her, but I can’t and I hate that I can’t. My wife would probably slap the shit out of me if I kissed her. How fucking messed up is that? After a moment, she pulls away and says, “I’ll be right back.”

Heidi hurries to the back, leaving me to watch her go. I plop down in my seat and run a hand over my face. She disappoints me when she returns, a Band-Aid on her finger.

“Can we not talk?”

“Yeah, sure,” I agree.

How did my life come to this? Will it ever go back to normal? Or at least where we’re together again? We don’t speak as she finishes cutting my hair. She doesn’t say goodbye, and neither do I. I pay the receptionist for the cut and leave Heidi a fifty-dollar tip. Then, I leave, feeling worse than I did when I came in.