Chapter 33 #2
“Right? But then I actually wrote one, and it was bad—like, all the inside jokes from major juniors and the Whiskey Rebels, every embarrassing story I knew, plus at least half a dozen I’d made up.
I printed it out on blue paper and showed it to him, and he just sort of rolled his eyes, crumpled it up, and tossed it back at me.
” I laughed. “Then at the reception, I pull out this wrinkled piece of blue paper.”
Peyton snorted. “Did he recognize it?”
“Ooh, yeah. The look of horror on his face was absolutely priceless. Like, he was pretty pale to begin with, and he was suddenly whiter than Rachel’s dress.”
“Oh, shit. Did you actually read that speech?”
“Not the evil one, no. But I’d printed my real speech on the same type of blue paper, then wrinkled it up just to mess with his head.”
“That’s fucked up,” he said with a laugh.
“I know, right? It was funny as hell, though.”
“Did his wife think so?”
“Once she found out why he panicked?” I snickered. “Oh, yeah. She thought it was hilarious.”
Peyton laughed. “She sounds like a spitfire from what I’ve heard.”
“Oh my God, she so is.” Another story came back to me, and I couldn’t help grinning.
“So, I was dating a guy my—second year with Pittsburgh? Third?” I shook my head.
“I don’t remember. Anyway, I’d been with him for a couple of months.
Everything seemed fine, right? And like always, Leif and I would drive in to practices and games and stuff together.
This one night, we’re on our way home from a game, and he just pulls over—right there on the side of I-79 in a not-very-inconspicuous car—and tells me he needs to talk to me about my boyfriend. ”
Peyton’s eyebrows were nearly in his hair. “Yeah? What was it about?”
“Well, it turns out there was a player on the farm team who’d been called up recently.
Leif didn’t tell me who it was, but I could put two and two together, since there were only three guys who’d come up recently.
Anyway, the kid had come to dinner with a bunch of us one night, and my boyfriend was with me.
The next day, the kid pulled Leif aside and said he was afraid to tell me, but he’d hooked up with my boyfriend a few nights earlier. ”
“No shit?” Peyton’s jaw went slack.
“No shit.” I rolled my eyes. “Leif told him he’d pass it on to me—that way I’d know.
The kid was just terrified to tell me because he was afraid I’d be angry with him.
I think he was also staying really tightlipped about his sexuality; Leif said he’d obviously been struggling hard to tell him, so he didn’t want anyone else to know. ”
“Wow. He really looked out for the young guys, didn’t he?”
“Oh, absolutely. And he also came prepared that night in case I didn’t believe him.”
“Yeah? How so?”
“He made a Tinder account specifically to find my boyfriend. The cheating doucheweasel was at least smart enough to hide his face, but there was a pretty distinctive tattoo that Leif recognized. He catfished him enough to get a face pic, then screencapped it all and showed it to me.”
Peyton whistled. “Wow. That is some commitment.” He grimaced. “I hope his wife didn’t find out about the Tinder account.”
“Pfft. He told her exactly what he was doing, and she even helped him set up his profile to lure the guy in.”
“Seriously?”
“Mmhmm. I’m pretty sure she took the photos he used, too.”
“He didn’t use fake ones?”
I shook my head and laughed. “He was going to, but apparently Rachel said it would be a crime not to show off his abs and thighs.” I made a face. “He also delighted in telling me what they did after they took those photos, because he’s a dick like that.”
Peyton laughed. “Oh my God. That’s amazing.”
“Oh, it gets better.”
“Does it?”
“Yep. While Leif was trying to find my boyfriend, he thought Rachel was just scrolling on her phone next to him. Like, they’re literally sitting on the couch while their kids watch a movie, both scrolling on their phones, and he’s getting matched like crazy.
He’s ignoring it, but one of them starts messaging him. ”
Peyton cocked his head. “Don’t you have to match with them too before they can message you?”
“Yep. Apparently while he was getting the kids refills on their snacks, she snuck onto his phone, found the fake profile she’d made, and matched with them.”
“Oh shit, it was her?”
“Uh-huh.” I laughed, rolling my eyes. “He figured it out pretty quickly because she’d send him these insanely raunchy messages, but every time he’d get one, she’d start giggling.”
Peyton chuckled. “Seriously?”
“Uh-huh. He said it killed some time while he was waiting for my ex to connect with him. I guess they spent like an entire evening messaging back and forth with the cheesiest, raunchiest pickup lines they could come up with.”
“That’s amazing.” Peyton stroked my arm, still grinning. “At least some good came out of your ex cheating on you.”
“I know, right?” I tsked. “My friends got a whole evening’s worth of entertainment.”
“Eh, he was doing the Lord’s work. Might as well get some entertainment value out of it.”
“No kidding.” Humor fading, I sighed. “Anyway, it didn’t take him long to connect with the guy, and once he got those face pics and had some screencapped chats, he told me.
” I snorted. “And then he showed me like eight different guys who’d matched with his catfish account in case I wanted a rebound hookup or something. ”
“Oh, wow! Talk about being a bro!” There was a wicked glint in Peyton’s eyes. “Did you take him up on it?”
I quirked my lips and shrugged.
Peyton rolled his eyes and nudged me. “Oh, come on. Indulge me.”
Some heat was rushing into my face anyway, so it wasn’t like I could deny it. “I… may have met up with one or two.”
“One or two?” An eyebrow arched. “Like two at the same time?”
I shrugged again.
Peyton laughed and leaned in to kiss me lightly. “Sounds like the perfect way to get over a cheating dickhole.”
“Exactly.”
“I hope you bought that man a lot of beers as a thank-you for being your wingman. And anti-wingman, in one case.”
“Beers, steaks, rounds of golf—oh, yeah. He was covered.”
“Good.” Peyton nodded sharply. “As it should be.”
I just chuckled again, and the conversation drifted into a natural lull. I curled a little closer to him, enjoying his warmth and his touch.
It was then that I realized I’d been going on about Leif for… hell, for a while now. Just lying here, talking about my best friend and some of the shenanigans we’d had during the ten or so years I’d known him.
But my voice didn’t feel like it was about to break, and neither did I.
For the first time since I’d lost him, talking about him had felt good instead of like I was putting all my weight on a broken bone.
The whole time I’d been grieving, I’d been focused on the loss, but I hadn’t spent any time thinking about the good memories.
About Leif. About all the things I missed rather than how much it hurt that he was gone.
I found Peyton’s hand between us, laced our fingers together, and pressed my lips to his knuckles. “Thank you,” I whispered.
“For what?”
I swiped at my eyes, though they weren’t tearing up as bad as I expected. “I haven’t spent enough time thinking about the good things lately. I thought it would hurt, you know? Like rubbing salt in my own wounds? But I think I needed it.”
Peyton drew me in closer and kissed the top of my head.
He didn’t say a word. Neither did I. There really wasn’t anything that needed to be said, and I just closed my eyes and enjoyed this warmth and this closeness as something like peace settled over me.
It would still be a long, long time before Leif’s absence healed from an open wound to a scar.
More and more, though, I had hope that that was even possible.
The hardest thing I’d ever done was try to move on without Leif.
And today I was grateful beyond words that I didn’t have to do it without Peyton.