The Ninth Inning of Us

The golden retriever lay sprawled across the sectional sofa, muzzle resting on what used to be my pillow. Baxter had chosen his side of the breakup with typical canine loyalty—sleeping on Sarah's half of the bed, following her from room to room during those final weeks. Now he watched me with those judging amber eyes as I tossed a baseball into the air, caught it, tossed it again. A rhythm from childhood, comfort in repetition.

My iPhone buzzed on the coffee table—Sarah calling, probably about the last box of books she'd left behind. I let it go to voicemail. Some conversations deserved more than digital intermediaries. Some conversations deserved to happen face to face, with the weight of eye contact and the inability to hide behind screens.

We'd met at a baseball game, three years ago. Ninth inning, two outs, bottom of the ninth, and she'd spilled mustard on my jersey. Her laugh had been louder than the crowd. I'd bought her a pretzel in exchange for her number. Now the jersey hung in the back of my closet, mustard stain washed out but the fabric still holding her perfume.

Baxter lifted his head, ears perked. The front door.

She knocked instead of using her key. Small courtesy, large impact.

"Hey," she said when I opened the door. She looked exhausted, beautiful in that way that made my chest ache. "I forgot my grandmother's necklace."

"It's on the dresser." I stepped aside.

Baxter scrambled off the couch, tail thumping a frantic rhythm against the floor. Sarah dropped to her knees, burying her face in his fur. The dog whined, pressing against her, and something in the room shifted.

"He misses you," I said.

"I know." She straightened, necklace clutched in her hand. The silver chain pooled in her palm like liquid moonlight. "Do you?"

The baseball stopped mid-air. Some questions deserved more than the space between texting and talking. Some answers needed room to breathe.

"Every inning," I said.

She nodded once, decisive. "Come to Baxter's vet appointment on Thursday. We can get coffee after."

"Only if you let me buy the pretzel."

Her smile broke something loose in my chest. "Deal."