I narrow my eyes at her. “I am not blushing.” The lie doesn’t even sound convincing to my own ears. Like I said…
This motherfucker.
Before I can think of a better comeback, Lexi leans over, her face bright with mischief. “Don’t tell Beau, but Butters does have the best ass on the team. Can’t blame you for gawking.”
I rub a hand over my face and groan. There’s no winning with these women.
Not a moment too soon, Anthony and Chance arrive, filling up the little casita with their presence. Lexi tries to get up, but her belly keeps her anchored in the chair. Chance points at her and Jen. “Hey. Don’t get up. We’ll come to you.” He crouchesdown beside Lexi, cradling her face in his big hands and planting a kiss on her forehead. Pure admiration.
He turns to Jen, who raises a warning finger. “Don’t you dare.” Chance just laughs and rubs her stomach anyway. She shoots him a glare, but there’s a smile tugging at her lips.
Anthony rolls his eyes at Chance and leans down, giving Jen a gentle hug. She pats his back, grumbling but not really protesting.
When Anthony straightens back up, Chance bends back down, then leans into Jen and attacks her forehead with a scatter of obnoxious, noisy kisses, ending with a loud raspberry on her temple. Jen bats at him, laughing and shoving him away. “Get out of here, jackass.”
Chance grins, unbothered. Anthony looks at Jen and Lexi with a soft smile. “You both look great. Only a couple more weeks and you can go back to life as normal. I can’t thank you enough—”
Lexi cuts him off, sharp and full of warmth. “Will you stop thanking us? We’re happy to be able to do this for you both.”
Jen points at Lexi, nodding. “That. Also, nothing’s going back to as it was. We’re going to have two littles running around. Then Beau and Lexi will have their own. Our little found family is growing.”
Anthony raises a brow, lips quirking. “Careful, Jen. Your heart is showing.”
She flips him off, unapologetic, and everyone laughs.
I just watch all this unfold, a lump forming in my throat. Is this what letting people in looks like? I rub my palms together, trying to ground myself. I guess if it’s people you’ve chosen, a person could have a loving support system.
I stand and offer my hand to Anthony. “Hey, Anthony.”
He clasps my hand, always that genuine smile. “I’m glad you came, Spence. Hopefully you make it to more home games. Always good to support our clients.”
I nod. “I’ll definitely try. This is a great setup.”
Then I turn to Chance, shake his hand too. “Hey, if you’re in the office tomorrow, I’d like to talk to you about some kind of event for the kids. And maybe do a friendly competition to bring a few of them to a game in this tent.”
Running the queer youth center for almost a year now—on top of my other responsibilities at the agency—has been more fulfilling than I ever expected. But I want to do even more. I want to consistently find new ways to give these kids something to look forward to.
Before I can say more, a whirlwind of color and chaos crashes into the casita. Dita approaches first, impeccable as always—dressed head-to-toe in Arizona’s finest shade of red, from her lipstick to her perfectly laced Chucks.
The chaos is Parker. God. Parker looks like someone unleashed a preschooler with a pack of markers. He’s in denim cutoffs and I can tell, even from the front, that his ass cheeks are hanging out of the bottom. He’s got a cutoff shirt on that only covers his chest. The rest of him—abs, face, arms—is covered in paint.And he’s rolling a bright red sucker on his tongue, naturally.
“Hey boss!” he shouts, grinning like I should be proud.
I look him over and shake my head. “What—”
Before I get the question out, the stadium speakers blast one of those obnoxious jock hype songs, something about a tootsie roll, and Parker squeals, “Omigod! This is my jam!” He spins around and my jaw actually drops.
Painted on his back, in giant white letters: TIGHT END, with a big arrow pointing straight down to his ass.
Then, in front of an NFL stadium full of people, he starts twerking. I slide down in my chair and cover my face. Jen and Lexi are practically doubled over, cackling.
Anthony laughs, eyes glued to Parker’s performance. Chance emits a low rumble—half warning, half amusement. Anthony just shakes his head, still laughing, and grabs Chance by the arm. “Come on. Buy me a fifty-dollar hot dog, Husband.”
They disappear in the direction of the concession stands, leaving the rest of us in a fit of laughter, Parker dropping it low with no shame, and me thinking maybe, just maybe, I need to start lightening up. I feel like maybe I could fit in with these people. That maybe there’s a place for me if I allow myself to have it. And I would have Ryan to thank for that.
The game starts, the crowd’s roar swelling around us as the kick sails downfield. Jen nudges me, her eyes glinting with mischief. “You know, football games are a great place to spill your guts to me about your crush on one of the guys on the field. Just ask Chance.”
I open my mouth to deflect, but the words stick. Instead, I settle for, “Nice try.”
