26. Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Six
Paul
I knew that I’d probably go crazy worrying about this consulting lunch if I hung around the suite and waited for Andre to call or show up, which is why I am venturing out of the lodge to do something I have had little time for lately—working out.
Don’t get me wrong, my job is pretty physical between gym classes and after-school coaching, but ever since moving in with Dre, and being back on my normal schedule with Maddox, I haven’t had the time like I used to have.
Partly because every free moment I have has been spent either getting ready for birthdays and holidays or just spent with Dre.
Which is fine, because I enjoy doing those things, especially with Dre.
But there’s also a part of me that misses the hours I used to put into the gym when Maddox wasn’t around, too.
Working out has always been a way for me to get out all that anxious energy and stress.
I was a lot like Maddox when I was young; although I probably got into more trouble than him given that my parents didn’t know where I was half the time, because I was usually with the neighborhood kids, which meant I wasn’t at home tearing the house up, and that was easier for everyone.
It was only after I nearly got suspended in middle school that my parents had to figure out a way to keep me out of trouble, and thankfully Mr. Peterson, my gym teacher, saw me waiting for the bus after detention and asked if I could help him set up for the volleyball game that night.
All I did was drag some mats out, but I felt weirdly better.
Eventually helping him out after school turned into weight training, and that eventually turned into trying out for the football team; which led me to get a scholarship to Brighton—where I met Dre and the guys. And the rest is just… history, I guess.
I adjust the speed for the treadmill, kicking it up a few notches so I can work out some of these thoughts that keep rolling through my head. The sound of Nickelback’s “Burn It To The Ground,”
comes through the one airpod I have on, since I tend to tune the world out too easily when I run, and I know I need to stay alert. The gym’s pretty packed, so I don’t want to hog the machines if someone else needs them.
But not even Nickelback can drown out the thoughts running through my head. Thoughts like I should probably tell Dre that I think I’m in love with him.
No, I am in love with him. I know I am. It’s just…
I don’t know if I’ve ever been in love. Not like he probably has.
I love Amelia because she’s the mother of my kid, and I have always cared about her and considered her a close friend.
But we were never in love with each other.
We were never going to magically fall in love one day, either, just because we had Maddox.
Staying together wasn’t good for us. It just made both of us feel like something was wrong with us, like no matter what happened, we were just… stuck together.
Because we didn’t want to be together. It was just… convenient. Safer than trying to put ourselves out there and risk being hurt. Until neither of us could pretend anymore that our marriage was working, because it wasn’t.
I want to be with Dre. I like waking up with him curled around me.
I like coming downstairs every Sunday to see him and the kids baking cookies or making breakfast, or watching movies.
I like seeing him at work—not that we see each other that often or anything, since we work in different schools—and it’s kind of nice to have someone to hang out with during staff meetings and in services, and during pep rallies.
But most of all, I like our life. Together. And I think he does, too, but that doesn’t mean he feels the same way I do. I know he feels something. I’m just not sure exactly what that something is, and I worry if I bring it up and ask him—or worse, tell him how I really feel—I’ll freak him out.
Because I’m not going to lie, it freaks me out. I know it shouldn’t. I’ve always loved Dre. He knows that, but is it really love? Or is it just the comfort of being with someone that I love?
Even in the beginning of my marriage, Amelia and I were always physical.
We always hugged and kissed, slept together, cuddled.
Fucked—not often, of course, but often enough that I didn’t feel like I needed to look elsewhere or that I was missing out.
And after the divorce, I missed that. The being with someone part.
The sharing a home part. The waking up in bed and going to bed with someone part.
But I know love is more than just sex. I learned that the hard way, and there’s no denying that telling Dre how I feel will change things.
Because once I say it, I can’t take it back.
Once you put it out there—that you love someone—they’ll never not know.
And if they feel the same… great. Collect two-hundred dollars and pass Go.
But if they don’t feel the same…
Well, then you're fucked, and not in a good way, because you’ll know they don’t love you. You’ll know that you don’t mean the same to them as they do to you, and that?
That’s the kiss of death.
Because you’ll always know. You’ll always question whether or not they’ll ever feel the same. You’ll always second guess yourself, and every word out of their mouth, wondering if it will ever change, and in my experience, it always changes things.
Especially when you are friends who are sleeping together.
I adjust the treadmill speed faster, because I don’t want to focus on this. I want to focus on enjoying this trip because after tomorrow—New Year’s Eve—we have to burst the bubble and go back.
Back to reality.
Dre’s parents and Rylee will come back from their trip to see their family in Maine.
Amelia, Sean, and Maddox will come back from their family visits.
Dre and I will go back to work, and it’ll be a countdown until the next in service or school break, it’ll be a rush of pickups and drop-offs, and school activities and us crashing at nine pm every day, barely able to keep our eyes open long enough to cuddle.
Back to pretending we’re just two best-friend bachelors with kids who live together and work together.
Back to being roommates, as far as the kids are concerned.
That’s the other thing I can’t stop thinking about.
The kids.
Andre and I never intended for any of this to happen, and we never wanted to hide things from the kids, but these sorts of discussions are hard for adults, let alone kids.
I thought I was going to have a heart attack when we told Dre’s parents, and I think my soul might have left my body when Amelia basically insinuated that she knew Dre and I were a thing.
I don’t think Maddox would have an issue with Dre, because he likes Dre and thinks he’s cool as hell, and it has nothing to do with him being an ex-NFL guy, and everything to do with Dre having a pool and a cute-as-hell little princess who he genuinely cares about like a little sister, and he’s just…
not lame, like me. He’s confident, friendly, and fun…
But Maddox is also getting to that age where things are confusing, and it’s only going to get worse.
He’s finally stopped asking if Amelia and I are going to get back together.
He’s finally accepted our divorce to an extent, and I don’t know if telling him that I’m in love with Dre will do more harm than good.
And then there’s Rylee—my little princess.
She’s already been through more shit in five years than most of us have been through in a lifetime.
She didn’t just lose her mother; she was uprooted from her home in California, then uprooted from her grandparents, then Maddox and I crashed into her life, and…
And yet I can’t stop thinking about that night at Maddox’s birthday, when she told me she doesn’t have a mommy.
When she curled up against my neck and slept like a damn angel, despite telling me how she gets sad and misses her mom.
Nor can I stop thinking about how much I enjoy our tradition of eating s’mores before dinner as she tells me all about her dramatic kindergarten adventures, or how reading her bedtime stories has become one of my favorite parts of my day.
I can’t deny the way my heart skips a beat when she looks at me and smiles, running down the sidewalk to hug my legs every time she sees me now.
No one could ever replace Victoria, and I don’t want to try to do such a thing, but…
I also feel like Rylee and I have grown closer, too.
And I don’t want to hurt her, or her feelings, especially if she’s doing better these days.
She’s made a lot of progress since she and Dre moved back here, and it doesn’t go unnoticed.
But bringing something up like her dad not only being with someone else—other than the only person she’s ever known him to be with—I don’t know if that will upset her.
I hope it wouldn’t, but she’s so young, and she is still learning how to deal with the loss of her mother on top of learning how to process big feelings like that.
And I don’t want to be the reason she pulls back or is upset.
I stop the treadmill and pull out my airpod, shoving it into my pocket as I catch my breath and take a momentary break. My heart races as heat ransacks me, and I bend over to stretch, focusing on my breathing.
“Just do it,” I tell myself. “It’s the only way you’ll know.”
I glance up at the television, noting that ESPN is talking about Alex and his recovery from his injury at the start of last season.
One of his teammates crashed into him and busted up his ACL pretty good.
Of course, since everyone knows the guy is a hothead, some people seem to think it was intentional, which is what they’re talking about. Whether he’ll ever return to the ice.