Those are the words running through my mind as I stand safely behind a netted overwatch bridge. Beyond the paint-splattered net, an array of mock dugouts and massive blowup cones create the perfect playground for the twenty brave participants below.
Most are Jack’s friends, a few are neighbors, and because Maggie loves Jack so much, evensheagreed to participate, but only because it’s his birthday. His friends think she’s hot and cool; they’re not wrong. And she’s taking to the sport like a champ. Who knew the barista-turned-cafe-owner was made for combat?
I’m happiest to report, though, that Greg is in the trenches too. A dart of warmth wiggles deep into my heart as I replay the conversation Greg had with Dino, the owner/operator of the place.
‘I’m sorry,’Dino said while flexing his oversized pecs; I’m not sure if it’s intentional or spontaneous.‘Did you say you don’t even own a pair of contacts?’
‘No,’Greg had said.‘I own them, but I don’t like to wear them.’
‘But you knew you were going to wear goggles the whole time,’Dino pointed out.
‘The website said I could wear them overtop my glasses.’
‘You can.’
Greg shook his head.‘Then why are we having this conversation, buddy?’
Greg had a point. I’ve seen it throughout our marriage more times than I can count. Some beefy alpha type comes along and tries to prove their manliness by giving Greg crap. It was Dino’s way of calling Greg a geek for showing up in his glasses, spraying himself with half a bottle of mosquito repellant, and taping a sign to his coat that says,‘EpiPen in pocket’if needed.
But the fact is, I am head over heels in love with Greg. What men don’t realize is that most women find those quirks adorable, irresistible, even.
I should applaud myself because it takes at least thirty whole seconds for my subconscious to summon the lineeven women like Trish.
Okay, so I’m not fully convinced things are good and perfect. But today, they are. Can’t I just enjoy today? Jack is having the best birthday party ever. He’s doing one of his favorite things with some of his favorite people. And next week, he’ll even get his driver’s permit.
The wobbly bridge bounces beneath my feet, letting me know someone else has stepped onto the overlook. Someonebigby the feel of it.
I glance over to see Dino coming my way. Arms bulged, chest puffed, muscles popped.
“Not to come off slimy or nothin’,” he says.
“Which means you’re about to come off slimy,” I say.
“But how did a guy like that score a chick like you?”
I shake my head and stare blankly ahead. Blankly, that is, until I see Lenny come up behind Greg and pummel him with a round of fluorescent pink paintballs.
Even over the rapid, repeat blasts, Greg’s voice rises as his hand lifts. “I’m hit, I’m hit.”
A hot wave of irritation flashes through me. I’m protective over Greg, and I hate bullies. “You want to know what did it?” I ask. “It was the glasses. They accent his smart, sophisticated side.” I drag my gaze up Dino’s beefy figure and glaze-eyed face. “Women find that incredibly sexy.”
A quick glance at the time clock says there are only nine minutes left. Parents will start showing soon.
“How you doing, man?” Dino booms, letting me know someone must already be here.
I feel the weight of the new man on the bridge but don’t bother to glance over my shoulder until I feel him walk right beside me.
Great,it’s Parker’s dad.
“You think this is, like, low-key prepping kids for war?” he asks, eyes homing in on the action.
I glance over. “Did you just say‘low-key’?”
“Tsk, they wear off on you.”
“Tell me about it,” I say. “You should have heard Greg yesterday. Said that someone was being…what’s the term…” It was just on the tip of my tongue, so I search back for the stereo-teen term until it comes back to me. “Oh!Sus—for like, suspicious.”
My triumph at placing the word is squashed beneath the meaning of that word. It’s a pie in the face moment; onlyI’mthe one who threw the pie. In my own face. Greg has been actingsusfor months now, and even though I tell myself things are better, I worry I have a bad case of denial. And now, to utter that word in the presence of the second suspect’s husband—ugh, kill me.
