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When I get home, I start sautéing the cauliflower and chickpeas—it’s a far cry from the street tacos I’ve grown up with, but if Angie can’t stomach meat, then I won’t subject her to being around it. While that’s simmering on the stove, I quickly head to my room to change into comfortable gray lounge pants and a black T-shirt. My rugby kit is already packed for this weekend’s tournament in Saranac, New York, so I grab the duffle and head back downstairs to the main floor. Right before I hit the last step, Angie walks through the front door with a paper grocery bag and a smile that quickly fades when she sees me.
“Where are you going?” she asks, closing the door with her shoulder as I set my bag on the floor next to her and take the groceries from her.
“The Can-Am tournament in Saranac is this weekend, remember? I’m leaving bright and early,” I say warily, but my gut sinks when she doesn’t look like that’s the reason she’s worried.
“What?” she bellows. “You can’t leave me like this. I just found out I’m having two babies at once. All I’m going to do is panic and masturbate all weekend.”
The image of Angie getting off in her bed over and over is both arousing and painful to think about. She said she would come to me for relief, and I promised I would take care of her. I have to make this work because if I don’t, she might find someone else to ease her ache. We may have promised this was open, but I’m going to try my damnedest to make sure she doesn’t need someone else.
“What I told you when we were camping wasn’t an empty promise,” I say confidently. “I told you I’d take care of your needs, right?” She nods. “Well, pack a bag because you’re coming with me.”
“Really?” she perks up as I walk to the back of the townhouse and set the grocery bag on the counter.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I press Dane’s contact and hold it to my ear. “Of course, Angel. You’re coming with me in more ways than one,” I level a seductive stare at her. “Hey, Dane. Your sister is coming in Saranac—I mean to. She’s coming to Saranac. Any chance you could room with someone else so she can stay with me?”
“Ang is going? Sweet,” he says on the other line. “Yeah, I’m sure I can share a room with someone else on the team. Don’t worry about it.” He knows there are no hotel rooms available anywhere near that tiny town six months in advance of this weekend. And I love that her brothers are so used to us platonically being together that they don’t even question why we would sleep in the same room. Sure, they know I got her pregnant, but to them and everyone else, it was a one-time thing.
“Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.” When the line cuts, I set the phone on the counter and turn to stir the taco filling as Ang stares at me with a grin. “I take my responsibilities seriously, Angel. Don’t forget it.”
Chapter 16
August 2nd
Angie
When Rafael said he was leaving bright and early, he actually meant dark and late—4:30 am to be exact. This isn’t like the short two-hour drive to NYC from Philly. This is damn near six hours to Saranac, located in upstate New York at Lake Placid. He was sweet enough to pack the whole car for us and guide my sleepy ass to the passenger seat with a blanket and pillow.
I also caught him having an adorable man-to-man chat with Razzle before we left, too. “Any intruder is fair game, amigo. I’ll bail you out of jail and get you a good lawyer.”
Boys.
The Can-Am tournament is one of the only east coast rugby events I’ve never attended with Rafael nor my brothers, but I’ve always heard them speak of it like it’s Christmas or something. Raf explained in the car that this tournament serves as the unofficial kick-off to the fifteens season—meaning that's when summer sevens rugby ends, and full rugby games take over with fifteen players against fifteen for eighty-minute games. Why anyone would agree to play multiple games in a day is beyond me, let alone all weekend.
But Christmas it is not. Based on the way Raf and the rest of his team are interacting with the hundreds of players here, I’d say it's more like a family reunion. Endless hugs, bantering and back-slapping pepper every moment between games. The rugby community is tight like that—whether you played against them once or played with them for years, everyone seems to remember each other. Or at the very least, they have a very specific memory tied to every player.
Or a spectator, like me. I know the Philadelphia Men’s Rugby Team like a family—mostly because three of them are by blood—but even the guys who have been playing for only a season know me by now. So do their wives, girlfriends, and partners.
Rafael might be taking the field right now, but I’m fielding endless questions thanks to my new baby bump that I can’t stop touching.
“Angie,” I hear a familiar voice bellow before I’m wrapped up in a hug from my friend Robyn. She’s wearing a clean uniform of a team I don’t recognize.
“Hey,” I sing, hugging my lean friend back and then releasing her. “Is this the new USA Valor kit?” I ask, gesturing to her black and yellow jersey.
“Oh no,” she smiles. “The Valor aren’t playing here. I’m just whoring for another team today.”
“Lucky them,” I say, knowing any team that gets Robyn is getting one of the best rugby players in the country. They’re getting an Olympian.
Rafael and I met her in college. She’s a couple years younger than us, but the men’s and women’s rugby team at Penn Valley University are a tight bunch, so in her freshman year we got to know her well.
“Is it true?” she asks, pointing to my belly timidly.
I chuckle, “Yeah.”
“Oh my gosh. Congratulations! Does that mean you and Raf are together now?” She’s not the first person to ask me this today. It’s the most common question, but it’s also the most painful. It’s a simple question that I’m capable of shrugging off with a smile.
“No, just two best friends, co-parenting.” It’s the truth, but it stings like a lie.
The smile she gives me is genuine, but there’s a hint of disappointment underneath. “Well, if anyone can do this, it’s you two. You guys make a great team.”
