“What did Gina have to say to you? Anything?”

I looked over at the score board. The game had just started.

“Why don’t you go over there and watch him? We’re not busy.”

“I need the hours.”

Frankie winked. “No you don’t. You’re an Alderman now. They’re going to take care of you, Erin. You can finally be a teenager for once.”

I thought about that for a moment then smiled. Tossing my apron on the hook, I jogged across the street and walked into the stadium. I’d never been to a baseball game before. Not many people were sitting in the bleachers besides a handful of students and the families of the players.

“Erin!” Weston was standing on the other side of the fence in his uniform and ball cap, his shaggy brown hair sticking out the bottom. He slipped his fingers through the wires of the fence, beaming.

I approached the fence. “Frankie let me off to watch your game.”

“I’m going to have to step it up a notch then.” He winked and jogged back to the dugout.

I spent my Saturday afternoon sitting on the bleachers, baking in the direct sun. It felt glorious. Weston made it to third base once, and the next time hit a home run. He played first base and got three players on the opposite team out. Once he even caught the ball right as it careened off the bat. The popping sound the ball made when it hit Weston’s glove made my hand hurt, but he was all smiles, and they all ran in off the field.

When they got their things together and listened to the coach speak, Weston made his way up to the bleachers and gave me a peck, sitting next to me. It was the first time he’d kissed me in public, and I didn’t miss the stares it garnered.

“What?”

“People are looking at us.”

“Good.”

“I’m going to go back and help Frankie. It’ll get busy since the game is over.

Weston kissed me goodbye, and I walked across the street, bursting into the back door and tying on my apron with a big grin.

“Was it fun?” Frankie asked.

“It was amazing. They won! Weston was great.”

Frankie nodded, and we worked without a break until close. We cleaned up quickly, because I would have to hurry and change and make it downstairs by the time Sam and Julianne brought over dinner at seven. I encouraged Weston to hurry as soon as I climbed up into the truck, and the second Weston pulled into the garage, I let go of his hand and darted up the stairs.

Thirty minutes later, I emerged, showered, shaven, and lotioned. Weston was sitting on the top stair, waiting for me. He stood when I walked out of Whitney’s room. I smiled at him, but he didn’t smile back.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said, finally forcing a smile. He leaned down and kissed my cheek, and then we walked downstairs together. Peter and Veronica were setting the table while Sam and Julianne were uncovering dishes and setting them in the center.