Chapter 22 Des
DES
Three weeks after The Dinner, I’m nursing a Sunday afternoon martini at Mitch’s bar Stone’s Throw Tavern after a strange game.
We lost by one. It happens. You can’t win ‘em all. But why we lost is something I keep thinking about. Tanner zipped a pass my way, and I totally missed it. That doesn’t happen.
No matter the stress or weirdness of life, we’ve always been able to put the world in a box and focus on the game.
But maybe that power has its limits.
The weirdness that started when I turned him down in the bedroom continued to linger on the ice.
In our first game after that awkward sexual moment, Tanner and I began to show cracks in our dynamite offense.
Playing against a team we should’ve easily dominated, we only won by a single goal.
The following week, our foundation crumbled some more.
Two of my passes to him got scooped up by the opposing player; if it wasn’t for our stellar defense, we would’ve gotten clobbered.
Today was one of the worst games Tanner and I had ever played.
Missed passes. Missed goals. Missed cues.
It was almost like we were strangers out there.
At home, we weren’t much better. I was having flashbacks to growing up, when an undercurrent of tension laced every interaction between my parents.
Did I make the right call turning Tanner down? My dick says no. And so does my heart. My brain, keeper of logic, says it’s for the best.
Tanner didn’t join the team for a post-game drink. He had to take Dean to a birthday party, and he seemed grateful to have that excuse.
If I was a responsible parent and husband, I would’ve gone home. But I’m neither, no matter what the paperwork I got from the courthouse says.
I don’t say much over drinks. After going over the loss in detail, a favorite pastime of Bill’s, the conversation shifts to lighter topics.
Bill talks about the struggle of moving in with his boyfriend Tate, while Derek fills us in on the remodeling his boyfriend Cary is doing to their home.
Mitch floats around his bar to visit regular customers.
Eventually, most of the guys go home, while I work on martini number three.
“You take martini drinking very seriously,” Hank says. He and Griffin nurse what little is left of their beers.
“It’s a drink for serious people.” I swirl the olive around the rim of the glass.
When I was in my early twenties and had no idea what to do with my life, I’d see rich guys sipping martinis at happy hour and tell myself that was the life I wanted.
This drink represents everything I’ve accomplished.
I have everything I want in life: great job, great apartment, great friends, freedom.
So why the heck aren’t I smiling?
“What are you guys still doing here?” I ask my friends.
“We don’t let friends drink alone.” Griffin purses his lips in concern. His eyepatch gives him instant gravity. “Are you good?”
“Yeah I’m good.”
“Because you haven't seemed like your asshole self tonight,” Hank says. He takes a sip of his beer, but keeps his lips closed, as if he’s an actor on set going through the motions.
“Tonight? More like for the past month,” Griffin says.
“If you shitheads are going to stay with me until I finish, the least you can do is get another beer instead of pretending to drink. My tab is still open.” I wave them off to the bar, not needing their commentary. Am I being an asshole enough for them now?
“He has a point.” Griffin doesn’t need to be prodded to drink. He’s at the bar in a flash.
“So bossy. I never thought I’d say this, but I think I like you better sober.” Hank gets up and shuffles to the bar.
A few moments later, they’re back with fresh pints, yet the concern on their faces has remained.
“It’s a loss. It’s not the end of the world,” I tell them. Their mood is tampering the joy of my well-made martini.
“You missed Tanner’s pass. You never miss a pass from Tanner,” Griffin says. “I have one functioning eye, and even I could tell something was off.”
“It happens.”
“Not to you and Tanner,” he pushes.
“What’s going on with you guys?” Griffin asks, staring me down. I can even feel his left eye studying me from behind his patch. “The last few games, you guys have been like…well, it’s like you’ve never been teammates before.”
“We won two of the last three games we played. Relax.” I roll my eyes as I feel them getting closer and closer to hitting a nerve.
“Yeah, but…it’s just not the same.” Griffin looks like he’s going to say something else, but can’t seem to find the words.
“Trouble in your marriage bed?” Hank snorts at his own joke as he gulps his beer.
Instead of laughing, my stomach twists into a tight knot.
“Holy shit. Is there trouble in your marriage bed?” Hank’s eyes widen. He looks to Griffin, wondering if his joke went too far.
“Tanner and I…” I press my martini glass into the cocktail napkin, leaving an imprint. How the fuck am I supposed to fill them in? “We…have been intimate.”
“Whoa.” Hank’s big eyebrows jump. Griffin doesn’t flinch.
“Tanner told me,” Griffin says.
Hank turns to his teammate and lets his eyebrows leap up his forehead again. “He told you? I feel so out of the loop.”
“He did?” I ask. Griffin, to his credit, never gave away that he knew. He’s not the gossipy type, and probably knew better than to publicly give us shit about this. “How did he seem when he told you?”
A knowing smile emerges on his lips. “Electric.”
I feel myself swell with hope, while at the same time, a foreboding pang aches in my chest. It’s a clusterfuck of a reaction that usually happens when I get something I want and don’t know what the hell to do with it.
Hooking up with Tanner has been electric, but it can’t last. This fake marriage feels wobblier than a house on stilts.
“Crap.” Hank leans back in his chair, almost pissed off, if he was ever the type of guy to get that angry.
“What?” I ask.
“We all suspected you two were hooking up. I should’ve made us put money on it. I could’ve bought myself a new power drill.”
“We were that obvious?”
“Yes,” Hank and Griffin say at the same time.
“You two have always seemed close,” Griffin says, more diplomatically than Hank would have. “Like you two speak this special language. The passing on the ice. But even off…sneaking glances at each other. Laughing the loudest at each other’s jokes.”
“And didn’t you guys used to have sleepovers in high school? Just the two of you?” Hank arches an eyebrow.
“You think we were giving each other hand jobs at these sleepovers?”
“Yes,” Hank and Griffin say at the same time.
“For fuck’s sake. Nothing ever happened at those sleepovers except sleeping.” However, we talked. We talked about anything and everything. Those conversations in the dark were more intimate than any physical act. Tanner’s always been there for me.
“There it is again. That dopey, dare-I-say lovestruck grin.” Hank points at my face. “You’re thinking about Tanner, aren’t you?”
“Fuck off, Hank.”
“I will do no such thing.” He crosses his arms, victorious.
“Tanner is my best friend. We’ve been through a lot of shit in our lives. That’s why we’re so ‘close,’” I say, using scare quotes. “You know why we got married. It wasn’t about romance.”
“For all this non-romance, it kinda seems like you two are having your lovers quarrel play out on the ice.” Hank shrugs his shoulders to his ears.
“We’re…things are in a weird place, okay? We’re just pretending to be husbands. It’s not real.”
“Then why are you fucking?” Griffin doesn’t mince words, but boiling down what happened to merely fucking sends a flare of rage roiling in my chest.
“Don’t use that word.”
“Fine. Then why are you copulating? Fornicating? Initiating intercourse?” Griffin’s bearded face lifts into a gotcha smile.
“I believe the proper gay term is breeding each other,” Hank says.
“Stop!” I bang my fist on the table, letting my frustration spread through me.
Hank turns to Griffin, both of them having a fucking ball. “All this talk about bodily penetration is hitting a nerve.”
“I love him, okay!” I yell, getting stray looks from neighboring tables.
That shuts my friends up. It shuts me up, too. But damn, it felt good to say.
“I love him,” I say, this time quietly. “This was supposed to be a sham marriage for insurance. We didn’t plan to be intimate, it just happened.
All of this just happened, like this insane plan was the most natural thing in the world.
We’ve been intimate a few times now. And he wanted to keep going, but I…
I couldn’t. I mean, I could have. I have zero problems in that department.
Things were solid steel down there. But something held me back. And now things are weird.”
Enough nursing. I down my martini like I just held my breath for a minute.
“Why didn’t I keep going with Tanner? I wanted to. But it didn’t seem like the right thing to do.”
My friends aren’t laughing anymore. Concern rings their faces.
“Because Tanner doesn’t fool around,” Hank says softly. “Whether you planned it or not, the first time you climbed into that bed with him, things got serious.”
“Single parents don’t fuck around. Trust us,” Griffin says.
He and Hank share a knowing single dad nod of solidarity.
“Anytime we even flirt with someone, we’re thinking about how this will affect our kids.
We’re wondering how this person will fit into our lives.
We’re doing the mental calculations about whether this person would be worth upending our family. ”
Hank chimes in, “I guarantee you Tanner has been doing this since the moment he agreed to marry you, even if this marriage was a so-called sham. And if it was a total sham, then I’d like my Third Eye Blind CD back.
” Hank takes a breath. I’m not used to seeing him so focused when not in goal.
“Tanner is a serious, thoughtful guy. Deep down, you know this, Des.”
“Griff, how did you know it was okay to introduce Jack to your girls?” I ask him. Last spring, he began dating fellow hockey player Jack. Whenever I see Jack with Griffin’s young daughters, he seems like a natural fit. Despite their massive age gap, they’re madly in love.
“It happened by accident. I was taking them to a pottery activity, and we ran into Jack. He wound up spending the whole day with us. He clicked with Annabelle and June right away. All those fears I had about introducing a new partner to them faded away without a thought. When it’s right, it’s right. ”
I’ve known these kids since they were born.
To me, uncle isn’t a strong enough word for my relationship to them.
Getting to spend so much time with them has made me see how thoughtful and interesting they are.
Dean’s wonderfully creative, and Lena’s struggling through the hell of adolescence.
I love Davy’s drive and seeing how Lulu perceives the world through her five-year-old brain.
“Fuck.” I lean back in my chair, things more clear and yet more confusing.
Even when we just fake kissing and giving each other hand jobs to relieve stress, I suspected this meant more to Tanner than it should have.
He doesn’t mess around. I’ve barged into the lives of Tanner and his kids.
Even though I didn’t mean to, I’ve been playing with his heart. “I can’t keep being with him.”
“Unless you want to. Papa Des has a nice ring to it,” Hank says.
I rub my hand wildly through my nicely combed hair. Those kids have fucking grown on me. “I am not meant to be a dad. I am not a family man.”
Griffin cuts in, calm but firm, like a therapist who’s known me too long. “You like him. It’s scaring the hell out of you.”
I shrug, eyes flicking toward the bar TV looping silent hockey highlights. “I like martinis and my promotion. This…this is different.”
Hank wiggles his eyebrows. “Different like how? Butterflies? Daydreams? Can’t-stop-thinking-about-him energy? Or the classic Des spiral where you think you’ve caught feelings, panic, and blow up your life?”
I hate how well they know me.
I sigh, leaning back against the booth. “Tanner’s…he’s Tanner. He’s been my best friend since high school. He’s the guy who made sure I didn’t flunk algebra, who picked me up when I’d drank too much at a party no matter the time. I never thought…” I trail off.
Griffin raises a brow. “You never thought you’d fall for him.”
“I never thought I’d get this domestic,” I admit, the words foreign on my tongue.
“Family dinners, helping with homework, grocery lists. I told myself this fake marriage was logistics. Paperwork. Now I’m…
” I drag a hand down my face. “I’m looking forward to bedtime stories and accidentally staying for movie nights. ”
“Those Pixar films are really freaking good,” Hank adds helpfully, waving for another round.
Griffin ignores him, leaning in, tone serious. “Look, I get it. It’s terrifying. You’ve built your life to avoid messes like this. But Tanner’s not a one-night stand. And those kids? They’re not accessories.”
I nod, throat tight.
“If you keep going down this road, you can’t just…disappear when it gets complicated,” Griffin continues. “You can’t play house and bail when it stops being convenient. You do that to him—after everything he’s been through—you’ll break him. And probably those kids, too.”
Hank, for once, sobers. “You can’t half-ass this, Des. You either keep your distance, or you’re in. All in.”
The weight of their words settles over me heavier than expected. It’s one thing to joke about falling into this chaos. It’s another to hear it laid out plain.
“I’m not the family guy,” I murmur. “I’ve never been good at the whole…commitment thing.”
“Maybe you weren’t,” Griffin says evenly. “But people change. Life changes.”
I picture Tanner’s smile—the one he hides behind when he’s worried. The way Lulu curls up in his lap for stories. Dean trying to wrestle me for the best seat at dinner. That damn sticky kitchen table. All of it, messy and loud and nothing like my sleek condo or carefully constructed life.
And yet…it’s the first thing that’s felt real in a long time.
Hank raises his glass toward me. “So? You gonna stop being a coward, or are you running?”
I hesitate, the answer knotting in my chest. “I don’t know.”
Hank gives me a soft pat on the back. “Maybe it’s time for that fourth martini.”