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"Hey, did anybody bother to tell the Dodgers this is an elimination game?"
Ginny popped another piece of popcorn in her mouth as Mike came around the corner, chuckling. "She says as she watches from the couch," he shot back. She waited until he sat down next to her to throw a kernel at him. Her aim was as good as it ever was, nailing him in the middle of his forehead. "Real mature," he said as he hunted for the kernel amongst the blanket.
"Should have thought of that before you made me your controversially young wife."
He snorted. "Shut up," he said, the words half-lost in his laugh, and she grinned winningly back. "You're 31, you're basically an old lady now."
Her jaw dropped in mock offense. "Just for that, you don't get to share my popcorn." She smiled when Mike just rolled his eyes. "Did she go down easy?" she asked with a jerk of her head towards the hall.
He leaned his head back against the couch; Ginny got to watch the tension leave his body, one of her favorite sights. "She wanted to read Ada Twist, Scientist three more times after you left. I talked her down to two. I don't understand how such a tiny human can have such big opinions."
Ginny turned to face him, her arm up on the back of the couch and her fist pressed against the side of her head. "You're shocked that your daughter is opinionated? I'm just surprised she didn't come out of the womb cracking jokes and making speeches."
"Already had a hell of an arm on her though."
When Charlotte Baker-Lawson was eleven days old, she somehow managed to drive her tiny fist into her father's face hard enough to blacken his eye. Absolutely no one had any intention of letting him forget it.
Both of them looked up at the familiar crack of a bat talking a ball for a ride. Mookie Betts peeled off from first when Alek Thomas put it away in center field. "He's oh and nine this series," Ginny said grimly.
"Jesus. Why can't he do that during the regular season? Padres might have made playoffs."
"We knocked them out in the NLDS last year," she reminded him with an expression that was definitely not a pout. She readjusted the blanket over both of them though it was warm enough that neither of them truly needed it. "And now the Diamondbacks are going to--"
"Don't say it," he cautioned.
Even after all the time they'd spent together, before and after their relationship began, she was always surprised at his level of devotion to the Baseball Gods. "You are so fucking superstitious! LA's had 4 three-up-three-down innings in an elimination game and you're going to tell me they're not about to get swept?"
"Not anymore, they're not."
"You're ridiculous."
The two lapsed into silence, watching the game roll through the bottom of the 4th and top of the 5th with only one hit between them. When Arizona started to string some hits together in the bottom of the 5th, Mike shook his head in disgust and stood up. Not a minute after he had wandered into the kitchen, a tiny head covered in perfect brown curls peeked out of the hallway.
"Mama," she said in a loud whisper.
"Little miss, aren't you supposed to be in bed?"
Charlie bolted for Ginny, clambering onto the couch with more grace than a three year old should have, and snuggled in at her side. "I miss you," she said, turning the sweetest brown eyes up at her mother. Ginny's heart clenched in her chest and she cuddled Charlie close.
"I miss you all the time, baby."
It was the hardest thing about being a parent and a ballplayer. Roadtrips had never bothered her before. Even when Mike retired and was no longer just down the hall from her, she hadn't minded the occasional break. It was different with a baby. There were things she missed, moments she'd never get back, and it was hard not to let them weigh on her. FaceTime could only do so much. Mike was achingly patient with her and assured her that she was a great mom, even when she didn't feel like it. Ginny cuddled her baby girl to her chest, draping the blanket over the toddler's back as she wedged her little face between Ginny's neck and shoulder.
She stayed like that for about 30 seconds before wiggling around, flipping herself within Ginny's arms so she could see the TV. Mike returned from the kitchen a bottle of water and stopped in the archway. "What exactly is going on here?" he asked, crossing his arms.
Charlie pointed at the screen. "We watch baseball, Dada!" Her tongue struggled over the double L, turning it to a W. Ginny always found it endearing and part of her was already dreading the days she'd leave behind toddlerhood, equal parts thrilled and terrified to find out more about the person she would become.
"Yeah, Dada, we're watching baseball," Ginny confirmed, turning her best innocent eyes on Mike.
"You're such a soft touch," he chided with a laugh. "Alright. I suppose I can watch the Dodgers lose with my best girls."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Oh, so when you say it, it's not a jinx?"
He sat down heavily beside her, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "See, here's the thing: I can't be a jinx. I am the opposite of a jinx. I am, in fact, the luckiest guy on the whole planet and am therefore immune to jinxes."
It was amazing, the way he could still give her butterflies after so long. "You're damn right you are."
"Damn right!" Charlie echoed. Ginny covered the girl's ears, a little too late, as both of them dissolved into laughter.
Maybe Ginny didn't mind so much that she was watching October baseball rather than playing it. Not if she was sitting with them.