Which made her wonder why he wanted her to come to the game? What did he want to talk about that couldn’t wait?

She tried to sit in one of the corner chairs just to catch a breath and hydrate, but the announcer talked about the pitches Tucker was throwing, how every one of his curveballs was hitting the mark. Part of her tuned it out, but another part of her glanced at the score and realized the Rivers were up by two runs.

And they were in the top of the fifth inning, and the other team hadn’t had a hit yet.

She stood, slowly making her way toward the television.

“What do you think, Aubry?” David asked her. “Do you think it’s possible that Cassidy will throw a—”

She stopped him before he could get the words out. “Oh, my God, David. Don’t say it. It’s bad luck.”

“You don’t really believe in that, do you?” Dr. Chen asked.

He’d barely acknowledged her outside of their interactions during the workday. And she’d certainly never stood side by side with him watching a baseball game.

“In medicine? No. In baseball? Absolutely. So if you’d like Tucker to . . . you know, then no one say a word about it. You can think it and hope for it in your minds, but for God’s sake, don’t say it out loud.”

And for the very first time in—ever—Dr. Chen smiled at her.

She started toward the other room where the lockers were located, but stopped at the doorway. “I’m out for the night.”

“Headed to the ballpark to catch the rest of the game?” one of the residents asked.

She didn’t even try to hide it. “Absolutely. I wouldn’t want to miss this.”

She and Tucker might be on the outs. They might even be over. But if there was even a chance he would . . . you know . . . there was no way she wouldn’t be there to support him.

She hurriedly changed clothes and dashed to her car, grateful the hospital wasn’t too far from the stadium and that she had a pass for VIP parking. She showed her pass to the gate attendant, then went downstairs instead of up. There were always extra seats available where the staff and wives sat above the batter’s box. That’s where she wanted to sit tonight.

She didn’t want to sit in the owner’s box. One, because her father was there. Two, because she wanted to sit with the crowd, to feel that anticipation, that level of excitement with everyone in the stadium, instead of being removed from it.

She said a quick hello to everyone, then found herself a vacant seat in between Liz Riley and Shawnelle Coleman.

“I thought you’d be in the owner’s box with my dad,” she said to Liz.

“The action’s better down here. And . . . you know,” she said, motioning to the field with her head. “There’s some exciting action going on out there.”

“Yes, I saw it from the lounge at the hospital. I got here as fast as I could.”

“You’re here at the best time,” Shawnelle said. “It’s getting really good now. He’s given up a few walks so far tonight, but not . . . the other thing.”

She’d missed an inning and the other team still hadn’t had a hit. She swallowed hard as she felt the anticipation and excitement of the crowd, but there was also a kind of revered hush, as if the crowd didn’t want to do anything to mess up Tucker’s concentration. Baseball fans knew what was happening—what could happen—but they also knew not to say the words out loud, not even to each other in the stands. No one wanted to jinx Tucker.

Tucker took the mound at the top of the seventh and Aubry tried to gauge his mood as he warmed up, wondering if he was tense or if there was anything else on his mind. She recalled their text conversation before the game, actually pulled out her phone to look it over, hoping she hadn’t said anything to upset him.

She could have been friendlier, but he’d caught her off guard. She hadn’t expected to hear from him and didn’t know what to make of his request to see her. She had hoped he’d had a change of heart and wanted to see her to tell her he loved her, but she refused to give in to that hope. But either way, she had to know.

She’d brushed it to the back of her mind with everything going on at work, and then she’d stumbled upon the . . . thing happening here at the ballpark, and no matter what went on between the two of them, she had to be here to support him.

She found herself holding her breath with every pitch and, along with the crowd, cheering wildly with every strike. When the first batter grounded out to first base, she stood and clapped. The second batter took two balls, then hit a pop fly to center field that was caught. Aubry had barely breathed as the ball sailed into the fielder’s glove for the out.