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“Wow, this is really good,” Patrick cuts in, sounding surprised. “Already so much better than the eggnog.”

“I said they were my favorites,” I remind him. “I’m not about to serve you shitty drinks.”

He takes another large sip before reaching out toward Joey’s glass. “This will definitely be my favorite. You guys can try the other drinks and just hand yours over to me.”

Joey slides closer to me to make it harder for Patrick to reach him, shielding his drink. “Hey! You can’t steal mine.”

“Don’t worry, I made pitchers of everything, so there’s more where that came from,” I assure him with a laugh. “These are only half-pours anyway, so we can all pick which one we want to keep drinking.”

Patrick sighs in defeat, finishing off his first glass. Then, to my surprise, he leaves his spot in the corner opposite me to scoot in on my other side. I’m certainly not complaining about being between them again, but I remind myself I shouldn’t even be noticing things like that. It doesn’t matter who sits where. We’re all just having a good time.

“Okay, the next one is a Cranberry Bramble, made with gin, cranberry sauce, lemon juice, and orange juice. It’s also garnished with rosemary.” I hand them their glasses before taking a sip.

“Hoooo,” Patrick blows out a big breath. “Gin always makes me feel like I’m drinking a tree. With my love of Christmas, I wish I could say that was a good thing, but the sweet margarita was way more my speed. Nothing against your mixology skills, sweetheart; the fruit definitely helped. I love cranberries.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Joey reaches across the hot tub to pluck Patrick’s drink out of his hand. Patrick doesn’t protest, blowing his husband a kiss instead.

“Yeah, gin is pretty hit-or-miss, but festive, so I wanted to use it for something. I can make you a cranberry marg at some point this week too.”

“I’d love that.” Patrick smiles at me like I just offered him a winning lotto ticket and not a simple drink. My stomach swoops at him beaming at me like that, and I take another big sip of my drink to hopefully hide some of my blushing.

“Patrick will never say no to a margarita,” Joey adds with a laugh, and a memory of the three of us splitting a margarita the size of my head over fifteen years ago pops into my mind.

“Oh my god, do you guys remember that place we used to go to on Tuesdays?” I ask with a laugh. “I haven’t thought about that in years.”

“With the giant glasses?” Patrick confirms. “There was a restaurant that had even bigger ones when we lived in Boston. We should see if it’s still there next time we visit my family.”

Joey easily agrees, and I attempt to ignore the reminder that I won’t be a part of any plans they’re making. But honestly, it’s probably a good thing. I need all of the reminders I can get this week about how temporary our situation is. They’ve been doing far too good a job of including me in everything, making sure I don’t feel left out. I’m sure that’s the reason I’m fantasizing about what it would be like to be a part of their relationship.

But I’m the outsider here. I should focus on that.

“I feel like you guys rarely ever talked about Boston,” I start, trying to think of something I can bring up to really reinforce my “other” status. “Have you ever even told me about when you met?”

“Go ahead, love,” Patrick prompts, and Joey nods easily.

“We were in a crowded sports bar, and even though I was with a friend who had no idea I was attracted to men, I couldn’t stop my gaze from repeatedly returning to the ridiculously hot, tall, muscular man standing near the bar with a big crowd of people laughing at something he was saying,” Joey begins, his adoring gaze back on his very smug-looking husband. Then he turns to me. “Usually I was better at hiding my attraction to other men, but I did a shit job of it that night, and he caught me checking him out more than once. I was embarrassed, convinced he thought I was strange for staring, but I couldn’t seem to look away for long.”

“I caught him checking me out because I was also doing the same to him,” Patrick explains with a shrug. “I was immediately drawn to him.”

Joey cuts back in. “My friend ended up wanting to go home early, so I walked out with him and pretended to call a cab since we lived in opposite directions. When his ride came, I said goodbye and then stood on the sidewalk trying to convince myself to return to the bar, even just to look at the man one more time. I finally turned around to go back in, only to find him casually leaning against the side of the bar, his large arms crossed over his wide chest with an amused smile on his handsome face.”

“I was so romantic,” Patrick states wistfully, causing Joey to laugh.

“He didn’t even introduce himself or attempt small talk,” Joey explains. “He looked around to make sure no one could hear us as he walked closer, and then he asked me to come home with him.”

“Seriously? Just like that?” I ask, shocked because I guess I’ve always assumed they had some adorable storybook romance, not that it began with a nameless hookup.

Joey laughs again. “I didn’t think I’d heard him correctly; I was so surprised by his question. I tried to insist I wasn’t gay, but he cut me off before I could finish, asking if I was on the DL. Even though I had no idea who he was, and I was kind of terrified that he was going to beat me up for confirming my sexuality, there was a tiny part of me that hoped he might actually be interested, so I found myself answering honestly. Well, nodding because saying it aloud was still difficult.”

It’s wild for me to imagine a time when Joey was hiding his sexuality. I know his awful family cut him out of their lives when he came out, but from the moment I saw Joey and he smiled at me, my gaydar, or maybe my wishful-thinking gaydar, labeled him as queer.

“So what did he say next? Did you go home with him?” I ask, unable to hide my curiosity.

“I shrugged, admitted that I wasn’t surprised, and then repeated my question, asking him to come home with me again,” Patrick answers. “Then I explained I’d rather ask him out on a proper date, but I didn’t think he’d go for it if he wasn’t openly gay.”

“It was the early 2000s, and although people were starting to be more accepting of queer people, and I’d found men to hook up with throughout college, I’d never met anyone who seemed so traditionally masculine who was also completely comfortable being attracted to other men,” Joey adds, reminding me of how different things were not so long ago. “Going home with Patrick that night was the beginning of a new outlook on life for me. I’ll never be able to properly express my gratitude for how his love and support encouraged me to embrace and accept every part of myself in ways I’d never thought could be possible after growing up the way I did.”

“Wow, I had no idea,” I mutter. No wonder the story of how they met never came up when we were younger. Even twenty or so years later, I can still hear the emotion in Joey’s voice as he tells the story.