It wasn’t like either of us would be the first ALF player married to a man. That honor, like most firsts, went to Rusty Sinclair of the Harlem Hornets. He and his longtime boyfriend had gotten married a year after he came out. It had been headline news. While Rowan and I might be the first married teammates, it wouldn’t be as groundbreaking. Probably. Would it?
“We should tell your aunt after dinner. She doesn’t usually have any activities on Monday,” Rowan suggested. “Then, after, we can call Raina and Troy.”
“Should we call them first?” I asked as I stole a look at the clock over the stove. “It’s already eight for them, right?”
“Time zones. Right.”
We made our plans, and as soon as dinner was over, we pulled on shirts and sat on the couch. We called Troy and Raina first. They were happy for us, but Raina sounded moderately annoyed that she’d missed her favorite brother’s wedding. Troy thought about things more logically. He kept talking about Rowan’s contract and how this could affect negotiations and asking questions about what our plans were if either of us was traded to a different team. Typical agent questions. Neither of them was too impressed with the fact that we didn’t have wedding pictures or clear memories of the ceremony itself. I had a feeling that would be a common theme.
I wished we had both of those things, too.
After we ended our call, we went to Aunt Ethel’s. My hand shook as I knocked on the door. What if she got mad at me? What if the shock killed her? She was the only family I had left. Rowan’s heavy hand landed on my shoulder, and I relaxed back into him. “She’s not going to be mad,” he whispered. His warmbreath caressed my ear and soothed my soul. “She’s going to be happy for us. At most, she’s going to be sad that she missed the opportunity to burn us a wedding cake.”
My jaw dropped. He did not just say that about my aunt. She wasn’t a bad cook! She’d cooked most of the meals when it had been me, her, and Aunt Annabelle. “Aunt Ethel would’ve made an amazing cake.”
I never got a chance to hear what genius rebuttal Rowan had for that, because my aunt opened her door and invited us inside.
My palms started to sweat the moment we sat on her couch. Rowan’s thigh pressed against mine, and I tried to focus on that instead of my fear of Aunt Ethel’s reaction. Rowan made small talk with my aunt while I mentally girded my loins for her reaction.
Finally, I couldn’t put it off any longer. “Aunt Ethel,” I started. When Aunt Ethel looked at me, I saw nothing but love in her warm brown eyes. She’d looked at me with that same love my entire life. The fact that I’d gotten married without her wouldn’t change that. Logically, I knew this. “Rowan and I came over because we wanted to tell you something.”
“Is it about those rings you’re wearing?” she asked, nodding her head to the simple gold bands around our fingers.
Right. Those were going to be a dead giveaway to anyone we told. “We got married last night.” Aunt Ethel’s eyes lit up, and she moved faster than I’d seen her move in years. She rushed toward me and wrapped her spindly arms around me in the tightest hug she’d ever given me. When she pulled away, there were tears in her eyes. “Oh, Aunt Ethel, don’t cry!”
“I’m happy for you. I just wish,” she drew in a deep breath and straightened herself up to her full, just barely over five-foot height, “I just wish I would’ve been able to see it. Your Aunt Annabelle and I—when you came to live with us—we used to talk about the kind of wedding you’d have. We wanted to make sureit was special. She put away some stuff from your parents, stuff for your wedding, so they could be there.” Her voice cracked, and my heart ached.
“I’m sorry, Aunt Ethel,” I whispered.
She shook her head. “No, my darling boy, do not apologize for being happy. I’m not sad that you got married. Only that I wasn’t able to see it.”
I felt the first tendril of regret in my gut. I’d hurt Aunt Ethel’s feelings. Rowan pressed his thigh tighter against mine, looked at me for a moment, and then spoke: “This summer, we can do something public. A reception or a party or something. Maybe a vow renewal,” he suggested. Aunt Ethel’s eyes lit up, and Rowan continued. “We can find a date that works for everyone.”
The rest of the evening was spent poring over calendars and thinking of ideas for our reception.
“Coach Cal, can we talk to you?” Rowan asked once everyone filed out of the auditorium after the walk through for that week’s game.
Coach Cal looked between us and shrugged. “Office?”
“Yes, please,” I answered.
Rowan and I followed Coach Cal to his office. I’d been in it more times than I could count, usually just to chat about the game or problems I noticed in the locker room. Sometimes, just to hang out and chat about movies or TV shows or concerts. Coach Cal had an open-door policy, and I’d never hesitated to take advantage of it.
His office reflected that. There were two couches and an armchair arranged to take up one half of the room, all positionedaround a flat screen television. He had a large wooden desk that dominated the other half of the room with a big swivel chair behind it and two comfortable chairs on the other side. A third comfortable chair was pushed against the wall in case someone needed to pull it up. The top of his desk was crowded with paperwork and a closed laptop. Team pictures, family pictures, and pictures of Coach Cal’s own career decorated the walls along with Coach Cal’s framed jersey from the year his team won the Championship, back when he was still a player.
Coach Cal went straight to the armchair and plopped down into it. Rowan and I followed his lead and settled onto one of the couches. Unlike when we told Aunt Ethel our news, we left a few inches of space between us. “Alright, gentlemen, what’s going on?”
“We got married in Vegas on Saturday,” I told him. Better to just rip off the band aid, right?
Coach Cal’s eyes grew wide. He looked between the two of us, and then his eyes slowly moved down to our hands. They landed on the gold rings on our fingers. Finally, he dragged his eyes back over to me. “You got married?”
“We got married,” I confirmed with a decisive nod. “We were dating before we got married.”
“You were dating?”
“For a few months,” Rowan informed him. His voice was a lot more serious than mine. Maybe I should have let him break the news. Maybe Coach Cal wouldn’t have looked like he couldn’t believe the words I was saying. “We went out to drink with Jonesy and Liam. They left. One thing led to another, and we got married.”
“And are you staying married?” Coach Cal asked. His eyes were still darting between us like he was waiting for one of us to yell April Fool’s even though it was late December.
