Edmundo Chavez, my accountant, invited Malcolm and me to the poker team after we adopted our children. He and his husband, Paul Amhaz, have two kids of their own through surrogacy.
The last member of the Royal Dads’ Poker team is Slade Messer, who owns a small tattoo shop and has a seventeen-year-old daughter.
There have been a few others who have come and gone, but for now, there are only six of us.
I knock on the door, and Reuben is quick to open it. “There he is!” he booms and yanks me into a bear hug.
“Oof,” I grunt as he squeezes the air from my lungs. “Nice to see you, Reuben.”
Reuben is wearing a cream linen shirt, which looks amazing against his dusky skin. He’s been losing his hair over the years, so he just shaves his head, but he wears a beard, which is sprinkled with gray. He owns yoga and Pilates businesses and even teaches. At 55, he looks more like he’s in his late forties, and his body could give some thirty-year-olds a run for their money. He also stands at six-foot-four, a half a foot taller than me. As Travis tells it, Reuben was a football star at LSU a gazillion years ago until an injury kept him from going pro.
He leads me into the dining room, where we play poker since it has the most space. But each month, we rotate who will host the game at their house.
“How are the kids?” he asks as we make our way into the kitchen.
“They’re good. Harrison is amazing at school and always helpful. Sawyer is as sweet as ever. He’s still a little shy, but he’s coming around.And Em? Well… she’s my wild girl. I’m terrified she’ll start climbing trees and breaking legs in no time.”
Reuben chuckles. “Be grateful. She’ll grow up and give those boys a run for their money. None of them will dare mess with her.”
“I love her vibrancy and independence, but, god, she’s hard to keep up with.”
“Toddlers, gotta love them,” Travis says, handing me an opened bottle ofAbita Amber.
Travis is a couple of years older than Reuben. His skin is pale with freckles, and he has a full head of thick gray hair. He’s not quite as tall, but he’s also fit. No doubt Reuben makes his husband do yoga and Pilates. Travis is an economics professor at Tulane University.
The two men have become incredible friends to me over the past three years. They even held me as I broke when Malcolm left and made sure to kick me in the ass so I wouldn’t neglect my children in my grief.
We’re making small talk when Paul and Edmundo walk in. We shake hands and share pictures of our kids. Their youngest is two yearsold, and they’re having to face toddler hell like I am.
I swear, Edmundo and Paul are the most attractive couple I’ve ever seen. Edmundo’s family hails from Venezuela, and Paul’s family is from Lebanon. Both are tall and fit, looking like they came right out of aGQmagazine with thick black hair and dark brown eyes.
They often remind me of my loneliness. Their marriages are so happy and filled with love. I thought Malcolm and I had been happy, but apparently not. The only one who keeps me from feeling like a fifth wheel is Slade. Like Reuben and Travis, he’d been previously married to a woman and had a daughter before a divorce seven years ago. She’d left when he came out as gay. Slade is as single as I am.
Speaking of the devil, he walks into the kitchen, greeting everyone. He’s about my height, but that’s where the similarities end. He has light brown hair, brown eyes, and he’s covered in tattoos. Slade likes to wear T-shirts, torn jeans, boots, and drives aHarley. We couldn’t be more different. But he’s a heck of a nice guy.
Slade claps me hard on the back after he grabs a beer. “How’s it hangin’, Seth? Ready for that tattoo yet?”
I visibly shuddered, making him cackle. “No way.”
“Comeon. Just a small one. I’ll even do it for free since we’re bros and all. It only hurts a little.”
Edmundo scoffed. “Don’t listen to him, Seth. Tattoos hurt like a bitch.”
“Psh, it only stings for a bit. Besides, you ended up with a whole tattoo sleeve,” Slade retorted. “Yeah, that’s gonna hurt.”
Paul lifted his shirt sleeve to show off a Chinese-style tiger. “This baby here nearly made me cry when I felt the ink prick along my triceps, especially with the colored ink.”
I give Slade a deadpan look. “No. Needles and I arenotfriends. Whenever I have to get the kids vaccinated, I’m the one who has to squeeze my eyes shut. I’m a big baby. I might even pass out.”
He winks at me and takes a pull from his beer. “I’ll get you into my shop yet. Just you wait.”
“You’re impossible.”
“Persistent. It’s a good quality.”
“Good quality for whom? For what? Annoyance?”
He bumped my shoulder playfully. “It’s easy to get you going, Seth-baby.”
