He doesn’t look fine. He looks like those puppies I must have kicked in a past life. For the first time, I want to knowwhy—not so I can use it in a story, but just…because.
“You two are so cute together.”
In unison, we glance at Mags. She beams back at us, one hand turning off the overflowing water.
I’m not sure about Tenny, but this is the second time tonight that I’d forgotten her presence. I keep getting sucked into Tenny’s magnetic vortex and losing my ever-loving mind.
I let go of him. “Go relax. We’ll clean up, and then I’m ordering a car to take us home.”
“But—”
“No buts. You clearly need to rest.”
Tenny grumbles as Mags pushes him toward the couch. “I’m going to rest all day tomorrow. I’m not even playing for the next two days.”
“Good,” I tell him, placing plates in the compact dishwasher. “I won’t have to deal with your smug face during interviews.”
“Interviewing me is the highlight of your day. Don’t pretend it isn’t.”
I smile to myself.There he is.
“Whatever delusion makes you feel better, pookiebear.”
“All my best delusions have you in them, lovebug.” Tenny grins at me from over the couch, dimple prominent.
I growl, but it’s all for show.
And I think even Tenny knows it.
The next morning, after getting Mags settled in the small office Daphne and I routinely use, I head to the parking lot to find my car. Tenny texted me, letting me know it was ready and that Brianna, the clubhouse manager, had my keys.
The laugh bursting from my mouth as I look through my car’s windshield has its own life force. It takes me several rounds of cackling guffaws to finally calm down. My abs ache as I try to subside the errant giggles that keep spilling free.
One thought spikes through my brain like a lightning bolt.When was the last time I laughed like this?It feels like bright beaming energy is coursing through my veins.
Without thinking, I call Tenny.
“Hey,” he answers, sounding winded.
In the background, I hear the clank of barbells and the whir of treadmill belts.
“Why is there a giant stuffed capybara in my passenger seat?”
“Because”—he pauses with a puff of breath, like he’s moving something heavy—“it’s your favorite animal.”
It’s impossible not to smile like a lunatic. I should be annoyed that there’s a ginormous stuffed animal that I’ll have to wrangle into the backseat to make space for my grandmother, but the reason it’s here tugs at my heartstrings.
Last night, I’d overheard Mags telling Tenny the story of seven-year-old me spending every free moment I had outside the capybara enclosure at the San Diego Zoo. That is, until a friend of mine said I stank like a rat. Mags whispered to Tenny that after being shunned for my overt enthusiasm toward my favorite furry creature, I scaled back on zoo visits but never stopped loving them.
“Why is it wearing a Waves jersey?”
Tenny chuckles, and my grin widens. “That’s a silly question. She’s clearly a fan.”
“And the necklace?” The adorable capybara is also sporting an oversized glitter necklace that almost looks like something Wilma Flintstone would wear.
“She likes a little sparkle, just like you.”
I stifle a laugh, glancing at my glittery Vans. “Tenny, this is too much.”
