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“Oh, don’t go showing off your Spanish,” Caleb growls.
Behind Jake, Ilmari raises a blond brow. “You speak Spanish?”
Ilmari and I share a glance. Color me curious too.
“I have a whole fucking college degree in Spanish,” Jake replies with a wave of his hand, not turning around.
Somehow, this doesn’t compute for me. “Wait—your major was Spanish?”
“Yes,” he and Caleb say at the same time.
“How did I not know this?” I say, pursing my lips. Has it really never come up in over a year of marriage?
“He only picked it because the Spanish Club brought food to all their events,” Caleb replies with a scoff.
“Hey, if you’d ever tried Profesora Ortega’s homemade empanadas, you would have majored in Spanish too,” Jake snaps, pointing a finger in Caleb’s face. “But don’t change the fucking subject. Are you seriously mad that I said Mars is my best friend? Cause we need to get that out in the open. Communication, right? Kitchen rules apply. Sudden death.”
“I’m not playing sudden death with you right now,” Caleb huffs.
“Marsismy best friend,” Jake all but shouts. “God, what have we been building towards for the last two years if not this?” he adds, gesturing around at the four of us. “He’s my best friend now. We live together, we work together, we fuck our wife together. I fold his damn underwear. Hell, we go on sunset beach walks together. But you’re myhusband, Cay.”
Caleb glare at him. “Yeah? And what does that get me?”
Jake just blinks at him, mouth open on a pant. “Well…how about some pretty fucking amazing sex, for one? When you’re not being a total fucking asshole,” he adds. “Mars is the guy I share my fries with. You’re the guy I share mysoulwith.”
Caleb crosses his arms and glares. “What does that mean to you?”
Jake glances from Ilmari to me, clearly looking for some help. But I feel like it’s important that I don’t interfere.
“Well—I—you have to be my emergency contact,” Jake says.
Caleb narrows his eyes. “Your emergency contact?”
“Yeah, you know, like if I get hit by a bus or injured on the ice,” Jake says with a wave of his hand. “You have to pick up the phone and take that call.”
Caleb rolls his eyes. “So that’s it for you then? The difference between me and Mars is that I get to fuck you and I have to claim your remains when you get steamrolled by a bus?”
“Can we please stop talking about Jake dying in a tragic bus accident?” I say.
He and Jake look my way and then Caleb is pointing at me. “What about her? What is she to you?”
Jake’s jaw clenches tight in anger. “She’s my wife, asshole. Keep pointing at her like that, and I’ll break your fucking finger off.”
“So why isn’t she your emergency contact?” he presses. “Why me?”
“Because you’re my husband!” Jake bellows. “Fuck, am I gonna have to tattoo it on your forehead? Rachel is my wife. She’s my whole fucking world. But we’relegallymarried, Cay. That meansyouhave to be my emergency contact. It’s like, the law…right?” He glances at me, desperately looking for validation.
I bite my lip, really unsure if I should interfere. But now they’re all looking at me. “Umm…well, technically you can put anyone you want as your emergency contact,” I reply.
Some of Jake’s anger dissipates. “Wait, seriously?”
“Yeah, it’s just whoever you want contacted first in case of an emergency,” Caleb replies.
Jake’s shoulders slump a little. “I thought it had to be like your partner or a legal family member.”
“When I first joined the Rays, Coach Tomlin was my emergency contact,” Ilmari says with a shrug. “I didn’t know anyone else.”
“Wait,” I say, holding up a hand, glaring at Jake. “You put Caleb as your emergency contact? Why would you do that when I’m a literal doctor?”
