Page 23 of Scoring Chance

“And maybe that’s old-fashioned of me. I support whatever lifestyle people choose, but a family keeps you grounded. I’m excited to meet them.”

I do a double take. “Meet them?”

“Of course! We want to meet your new family.”

“Oh. Well…if there’s a work event, maybe you’ll meet Tanner or something.”

“No, I mean really get to know them. I’ve met spouses and kids over the years at holiday parties and company picnics.” Stan loves playing wise old grandpa to everyone’s kids. He dresses as Santa at Christmas parties.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll meet them sometime.”

“Myrna, can you work with Des to schedule dinner? I’d love to come over one night—if that’s okay with you.”

Before I can answer, Kyle says, “I’m sure Des would love to have you over.”

“Wonderful idea,” I say through gritted teeth.

“It’s settled,” Stan says. “I’m excited to meet them. And Des—welcome to marriage and fatherhood.”

Everyone claps and cheers.

I act gracious; inside, I feel like I’m melting at the speed of light.

8

DES

The martinis are over-chilled, the glass rims frosted perfectly, the twist of lemon curled with surgical precision.

I’ve done everything right—except relax.

Jeremy watches me with mild amusement as I adjust the cocktail napkins again and glance at my phone again. It’s been over an hour since I called Tanner, and still…nothing.

Not a single text. Not even a “lol.”

“You always this fidgety before a drink?” Jeremy asks, propping a sockless ankle on his knee. He’s somewhere in his late twenties. He does something with computers. And he’s some version of preppy cute.

We’d been messaging on Milkman, allegedly a gay dating app that’s really a gay hookup app. Things had petered out a few weeks ago, but the stress of today compelled me to reopen the app. He messaged wut up? and that was enough for me.

Sex is nature’s mood stabilizer.

Jeremy should be exactly my type. Tall, symmetrical face, good shoes, ready to get it on. He slipped out of his clothes within fifteen minutes of arriving, claiming that he thinks better in just his underwear. My cock should be raging to get inside him, but right now, he might as well be a lamp.

“I’m not fidgety,” I lie, scrolling my messages for the fifth time in the last two minutes.

Jeremy leans back on my sofa, the one that cost more than my first car. “You’re checking your phone like you’re waiting for lab results.” He sits back up. “Wait, are you waiting for lab results? When was the last time you got tested?”

“Recently, and I’m all good on that front.”

“Me, too,” he says, not wanting to be left out.

I hand him one of the martinis. My hand brushes the screen of my phone, and I catch sight of the last message I sent.

Des: Stan wants to come over and have dinner with us and the kids.

I swallow a sip of lemon-infused vodka and try not to feel nauseous.

“Are you in some kind of trouble?” Jeremy asks, watching me with that slightly predatory look people get when they sense drama.