The Running Series Complete Collection: 3-Book Set plus Bonus Novella (174 page)

“I know.  Maybe we can switch things up and go tomorrow instead,” I suggest.

“Sure thing, Emmy.  Let’s see which way the wind is blowing tomorrow.”

I hang up the phone and join Adam in the nursery.  He has already emptied the contents of the box and is checking off the list of parts and necessary tools.  He’s got everything sorted and organized.  He hands me the directions, “Here, your job is to read the instructions and hand me the parts.  Ready?”

“Ready,” I tell him confidently as I sit down on the floor surrounded by nuts and bolts, crib parts, and metal springs.  I inspect the different bolts and screws and I wonder how I’m ever going to tell them apart.  If I get them mixed up, the crib might be unsafe – or worse.  Right there on the front of the instructions manual is a warning that reads,
failure to follow these warnings and assembly instructions could result in serious injury or death.
  Holy shit!

“Emmy, sweetie, don’t worry.  The parts list shows their actual size.  Just match it up before you hand it to me and we’ll be fine.”

“Oh!”  I look at the parts list and sure enough, he’s right.  “How did you know what I was thinking?” I ask.

“You had that look and you were chewing on your lip,” he explains.  “I’ve learned to read you pretty well, sweetheart.” 

I flip through the manual and the first five pages are filled with words like
Warning!
,
Do Not
, and
Never
.  “Um, Adam – maybe we should hire someone to do this.”

“Don’t be silly.  We can do this.  I can handle it, trust me,” he says.  I do trust him, he’s never once given me a reason not to.

I read the first step aloud, “Insert screw ‘X’ into the upper hole in the head-board and tighten fully using wrench ‘B’. Proceed in the same way to insert screw ‘Y’ into the lower hole using spanner Y2’.”  I look at the pile in front of me.  “Um, Adam – what the heck is a spanner?”

Adam just shrugs his shoulders, rolls his sleeves up, and hovers next to me as the two of us try to decipher the hieroglyphics in this instruction manual. 

From time to time, the instruction manual is missing at least one essential step or word of explanation, leaving Adam and me sitting here, scratching our heads, spare parts in hand, wondering if perhaps a trained monkey would have better luck.

Had I known that we would need octo-arms to assemble this crib, I would have called in a team to help because at one point Adam desperately tries to hold the sides together using both arms, both legs, and his chin.

I discover that I am not great at assembling furniture, but I’m super good at providing moral support.  I make myself useful by reading the manual, but only when asked, and saying things like, “Wow, you did such a great job!” and, “Do you want me to take that empty box out to recycling?”

I think the manufacturers are intentionally messing with our minds. It's like they skip a step on the instructions on purpose as a lesson in parenting.

My guess is that The Baby Gear League secretly met and decided together that they would make the assembly of their products just a little fuzzy.  Not so much that the average new parents can't put together their own crib, but enough to leave them scratching their heads a bit.

As a result, we are forced to take a deep breath, trust our instincts, use common sense, work together, and adapt when things aren't going according to plan.

But despite these challenges, we did get the job done, and I can see the pride on his face when he looks at the place where our little Bean will be sleeping one day, not far from now.

As I begin to gather the trash, Adam’s phone rings.  I listen to half a conversation and try to stitch together the topic of discussion.

“Yes, this is Adam Cooke,” he tells the mysterious caller.  “I’m sorry, who did you say you were?” he asks, listening intently to the response.  “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’m interested,” he explains and I decide he must be talking to a salesman of some sort.  Honestly, I’m surprised he hasn’t hung up by now.

I leave Adam to finish his call and walk the trash out to the garage.  It’s finally stopped snowing and the roads look safe enough to drive again.  Maybe I’ll get to go on my shopping trip tomorrow after all.

When I walk back into the kitchen, I stop to grab a snack from the refrigerator and when I turn around, Adam is standing in front of me with a confused look on his face.  “Who was that?” I ask.

“Edward Kelley from Pinnacle Sports.  They’re a team of headhunters that recruit executives in the sports industry.”  Adam reaches around me into the refrigerator and grabs a cold bottle of water for himself. “They work for all the major leagues like the NFL, NBA, NHL, MLB, and even the US Olympic Committee.”

“Really?  What did this guy want, Adam?”

“He wants to talk to me about a job,” he explains.

“Oh,” is all I can think to say.  “What kind of job?” I ask.

“A job with a different team.”

“But you’re not even at this job for a full year yet.  What did you tell him?”

Adam walks over to the kitchen table and pulls out a chair for me.  He’s been doing that ever since we found out about Bean, like he thinks I’m feeble and fragile. I let him, though.  Truth be told, I kind of like it.

“I told him exactly what you just said,” he tells me.  “And I also explained how I can’t relocate because of my son, and how we’re expecting a new baby soon, and how I have no interest in moving again now that I’m living closer to my friends and family.”

Phew!  “You really had me worried for a minute there, Sparky.  So if you turned him down flat, what’s the big deal?  What do you want to talk to me about?”

“He said the job is here in New Jersey and that the GM asked for me specifically.”  He pauses to think, holding his forehead and squeezing his temples.  He doesn’t know what to do, so I sit quietly and wait for him to tell me more.  “A spot just opened up for a new Director of Player Development with the Red Hawks.”

“Red Hawks?  Isn’t that the professional
baseball
team just outside of Atlantic City?”  Adam nods.  “But you like football,” I argue.  “Do you even
like
baseball?”

“I do.  I played as a kid and even in high school.  I was a pretty good outfielder, too,” he tells me.  “This is a big deal, Em.  I never thought I’d be a part of Senior Management, not for a long time, anyway.”

“What exactly is Director of Player Development?  What would you be doing?” I ask.

“I’d be in charge of player support and recruitment.  You know – scouting.  I would work with the head coach in the selection of new players.  I’d also oversee team travel, media coverage, public appearances, and new player orientation.  I would have a team of staffers working for me and I’d report directly to the owner and General Manager.”

“Wow, Adam.  You know how to do all those things.  You’ve been handling Mac for years.  Nobody gets more publicity than him.  It sounds like someone finally recognized how much you’ve done for him and sees what the rest of us see – a pretty amazing man.”

Adam gets up and walks around the room nervously pacing in circles, so I keep talking.  “This job was made for you, sweetheart.  What are you worried about?”  He stops and stares out the window silently.  “Are you afraid to leave Mac?”

He nods.  “You have to understand, I’ve been with Mac since the beginning.  We’ve been through a lot together.  When he negotiated his contract with the New Jersey Sentinels, he insisted they find a position on the staff for me, too.”  He hesitates and draws his hands across his face.  “He needs me.”

“Listen, Evan McGuire is a big boy and he has a wife to take care of him now.  It’s time for you to concentrate on what’s best for you and your family.  Are you at least interested in this job?” I ask him.

“I have to admit I am a little curious, Em.”  He turns and looks at me.  “Maybe I’ll take the interview and see what they have to say.  Do you mind if I go do a little research?  I’d like to learn a little more about the team.” 

“No, of course not.  Go!  I have some cleaning to do around here anyway.”

Adam runs his fingers down my cheek before gripping my hands tightly in his, and then places our hands firmly on my baby bump.  “Gimme an hour, then the three of us are going out to dinner tonight.”  He smiles down at me and kisses my forehead, his gray eyes shining with hope and excitement.

Just before Adam turns down the hallway to work in his study, he calls back, “And Em – mum’s the word.  Please don’t say anything to anybody, especially Jette.”  I look down at the phone in my hand, my finger hovering over the ‘send’ button.  Damn, that man of mine knows me well.

W
E PULL UP
to one of our favorite restaurants, Harpoon Willy’s in Manasquan.  It’s tucked away off the beaten path, nestled right along the houses and mansions on the Manasquan River.  There’s still an inch or so of snow on the ground, and the front of the restaurant is illuminated with holiday lights hanging along the roofline – the big, white old-fashioned kind.  Aside from the parking lot and sign above the front door, this place could be mistaken for any other colonial-style home along the street.

Adam walks me to the entrance, holding tight to my hand the whole way.  He opens the sizable red door for me and I can’t help but smile as I take in the beautiful scene before me.  The lights are dim and the wood plank walls create the most dramatic shadows as they reflect off the vintage tin ceiling tiles. 

The hostess welcomes us warmly, grinning at Adam a little more than necessary.  She casually assesses him from head to toe as she leans into her station to grab our menus.  Sometimes I forget how attractive my boyfriend is.  Curious to see what she’s noticed, I glance over at the man on my arm and I am reminded of how lucky I am.  Standing about six feet, three inches tall, Adam’s dirty blonde hair is just long enough to be called shaggy, but not so long that it looks sloppy.  His deep gray eyes sparkle when he smiles, lighting up his whole face.  And he hasn’t shaved in a few days, making him even sexier. 

Choosing to speak only to Adam, she asks, “Table for two?”

Adam nods and she proceeds to lead us into the dining room.  A stone fireplace fills the back wall and a roaring fire warms the room and gives off the perfect amount of light.  She leads us to a table in the center of the room, large enough for four.  Just as I’m about to sit, Adam squeezes my hand and pulls me closer.

“Perhaps something a little more private,” he suggests. 

The hostess smiles.  “Of course, sir, right this way.”  She leads us up two steps to the upper level, which has an impressive view of the river.  “How’s this?”

“Perfect.” He flashes his glimmering smile, dazing her momentarily. She fills our water glasses, standing blatantly close to Adam without actually touching him.  “Um,” she sighs, biting her lip, “your server will be right out,” and then turns and walks away.

“You really shouldn’t do that to people,” I tell him. “It’s not fair.”

He looks at me, puzzled.  “Do what?”

“Dazzle them like that.  She’s probably hyperventilating in the kitchen right now.”

He shakes his head, confused. “I didn’t
do
anything.”

“Oh, come on,” I say suspiciously. “You have to know the effect you have on people.”

He tilts his head to one side, and his eyes were curious. “I dazzle people?”

“Do you think Evan McGuire is the only one who can make women drool?”

He squints his eyes and glares at me. “Are you serious?”

“As serious as an erection lasting more than four hours,” I tease.

He ignores my comment.  “Do I dazzle you?”

“Constantly,” I admit.

Our server arrives and introduces herself.  “Hello. My name is Jessica, and I’ll be your server tonight.”  Just as I’m about to order, she turns to Adam and asks, “What can I get you to drink?”

Unbelievable.  Everyone on the planet knows that you’re supposed to take the lady’s order first.  It’s that simple.  Either she’s not very good at her job or she doesn’t care. 

No one has better manners than Adam, who looks at me to order first.  “Emmy, sweetie, what would you like tonight?”

“I’d like a sweet tea, please.”

“Make that two,” he adds, dismissing the waitress and focusing his complete attention where it belongs – on me.

“I’ll be right back,” Jessica promises.

“Okay, Sparky.  Let’s talk about this job situation,” I tell him.  “Gimme the pros and the cons.”

“All right, I’ll start with the pros.  It’s a promotion.  I’ll have more of a leadership role and a voice in the decision-making for the team.  I get to stay in New Jersey and Waterfront Park Stadium is only a ten-minute drive from Liberty Stadium.”  Adam takes me by the hand.  The corners of his mouth curve upward.  “I asked around and I think the starting salary is pretty good. And Emmy, if you wanted to, you could stay home with the baby for as long as you want.  You wouldn’t have to work at all.” 

“Is that what you want?  Do you think I should stay home with the baby?” I ask.

“Not necessarily.  I want you to do what makes you happy.  You could stay home, work full-time or part-time.  The point is, you’d have a choice.”