Page 92 of The Foul Out

Me: you got it.

Dumpty: Who’s in for the game tonight?

Angel Boy: I’m in, but I’m bringing Grey.

New guy: I’m in.

Bambi: I’m in but Gi wants to come and we’re bringing Dragon and Avery

Dumpty: Wow, grumpy and his princess are coming out of their wedding-planning cave?

Bambi: Yeah can you believe it’s only five weeks away

Angel Boy: No shit? That’s crazy.

Dumpty: Streaks, you in?

Me: I’m out. Decorating the tree.

New Guy: You’re no fun anymore. Today it’s the tree. Last weekend it was movie night and baking cookies. And the weekend before it was gingerbread houses.

Me: I’ll send Cam if you want me to but unless I can bring Harper and the kids I’m probably out for a while.

Dumpty: You mocked me for so long about Rory. I love seeing you finally getting it.

Me: GIF of a big group hug

I staredat the massive windows of my penthouse, studying the way the lights of the tree reflected in the glass.

I frowned.

It was perfect. The green, black, and gold ornaments were evenly spaced and fit the vibe of my apartment. Which was all sleek, dark wood and black furniture. Modern, masculine, and expensive while also being comfortable and homey. I’d paid someone to make sure it was perfect. But to be honest, the tree sucked. Some designer had come and put it up for me. Cam had arranged it. I had nothing to do with it.

The one at Harper’s was strung haphazardly with lights. The ornaments were heavy on the lower half, and the entire tree tilted just a little to the left.

But I loved it. I loved everything about Harper’s apartment. Including how small and chaotic the space was.

My mood was in the gutter tonight. I was stuck at home rather than over at my new favorite place, waiting to see how many times I could make the snowman sing Feliz Navidad before Harper lost it. Usually it was twelve times. But every once in a while, she made it to play number thirteen before her eyes twitched and she whacked me in the stomach.

She was out with Zara at the WAGS holiday bar hop, and the kids were with their dad. I was thrilled that Zara and Gianna had thought to include her, but I was less than pleased that they hadn’t included me too. I wasn’t a wife or girlfriend. That was true. So I told them their party was sexist, hoping to guilt them into opening it up to us guys, but Zara just laughed and called me ridiculous. Apparently, the issue wasn’t that I was a guy. It was that I played for the Revs, and this was a significant others’ bonding thing.

Whatever. I could entertain myself for a night. Although I was currently doing a shit job of it, because I was sitting home, pouting.

My phone buzzed on the kitchen counter, so I hustled to it, hoping it was Harper, ready to be picked up for the night. Or maybe the guys would want to hang out.

Instead, Piper’s name flashed across the screen. My stomach sank. Shit. She’d never called, which meant this couldn’t be good. But I swallowed my panic and answered the FaceTime request.

“Hey, Pipe. What’s up?”

Her eyes were red, and her cheeks were tearstained. My initial reaction was to freak the fuck out. But I curbed the urge. It was possible that Piper was crying because the TV was one tick too loud or something as easy to fix.

“You said if I needed you, I could call.” She sniffed.

“Always,” I agreed.

“My headphones broke. I need them to stop the noise from up above us. They’re banging around up there, and it’s too loud.”

I had four extra pairs of the blue Boston Revs noise-canceling headphones in a cabinet here, one pair in my Escalade, and one in my backpack, just in case Piper ever needed them.

---