Page 36 of It Should Have Been Me

“I think Keith and I should be on a team this week,” I suggest, tossing the ball to Peter as we enter the court.

“Wanna know what winning feels like for a change?” Keith taunts with an arrogant smirk.

“I’ve been practicing,” my dad assures me. “I think we might stand a chance this week.”

“Yeah, I’m not buying that. Dad, I love ya, which is why I’m going to be straight with you. You’re like the kid on the team that’s only ever gonna get the participation award.”

“Practice has made me better...muchbetter than the last time.”

To prove my point, Peter tosses the ball to him. “Here, catch.”

My father tries to catch it by looping both arms around it, but ends up catching fresh air and sunlight instead. Peter puts his head down to hide his laughter.

“What exactly have you been practicing, dad?”

“I didn’tphysicallypractice...but I watched a lot of games.”

“Yeah, that’s not...” I shake my head. “Never mind. Let’s play.”

Even though my dad sucks at basketball, and I meanbad, we still have a lot of fun. He might not be able to throw or catch, but his long arms can stop a pass. Surprisingly, Peter and I take the lead about ten minutes in. Something that hasneverhappened. At half-time, Keith adopts my dad onto his team, saying Dylan is distracted and they need the extra hands.

Pete and I hold our lead until the timer goes off and our victory dance at the end of the game is anything but humble. We’re sweaty and huffing, but we still give the dance our all.

Keith regards us with disparagement as we proudly hop and bounce around the court. “Dylan didn’t have his head in the game today, and Eddy and I are twice your age. If I were the two of you, I wouldn’t be so smug.”

“But you’renotus,” I say, rocking my hips and pumping my fists in the air. “We’ll take ourwinwith a bucket of smug, thank you very much.”

“Why don’t you save the dancing for later?” Keith suggests, feigning annoyance. “Aren’t you boys going out tonight for Dylan’s bachelor party?”

“It’s not a real bachelor party,” Peter replies. “Because Dylan and Isa decided they want to have ajointparty. Who the fuck does that?”

“A guy who loves his fiancé and thinks she’s the hottest woman on the planet,” Dylan quips. “I don’t need strippers. Besides, Tommy is the only person Bella hangs out with socially, so she didn’t want a big party either. At least Cat will be there tonight, so? Shit.” Dylan looks at me, pulling his lips in to hide a smile. “Are you okay with that, Scott?” He places his hand over his heart as if he genuinely feels bad for me when the asshole is loving the shit out of this moment. “We can always withdraw her invitation if being around her is going to...destroy you inside.”

I grit my teeth because he’s referring to that stupid voice note I sent him. “Nah, I’ll be fine, but thanksso muchfor caring.”

His smirk turns into a chuckle. “Anytime.”

Keith picks up on the weird vibes between us and looks over at my father. “Yo, Eddy. You want to practice some shots with me?”

“Sure.”

I wait for them to walk back to the middle of the court before I focus on Dylan. He may be smiling and giving me shit on the outside, but he’s very good at hiding his true feelings, and I can tell something is bothering him. “You were off your game today, Dyl. What’s up?”

“Nothing. Just pre-wedding jitters, I guess.”

“You can’t lie to us,” Peter says. “We know you, Dylan.”

He lets out a heavy sigh, walking over to sit down on the bench at the far side of the court. He rests his elbows on his thighs and drops his head. Pete and I sit down on either side of him.

“I don’t know if I should do this,” he admits softly.

Peter looks over at me and, considering everything that happened in Dylan’s and Isa’s past, he feels compelled to ask what we’re both thinking. “Are you...having second thoughts, because if there’s any doubt, I would recommend calling off the wedding instead of going through with marrying her. Considering how your relationship with Fran ended—”

“No, Pete, it’s not that. I’m a hundred percent sure I want to marry her. I want nothing more, but there’s something I haven’t...I haven’t told you guys.” He’s silent for a long while and we give him time to collect his thoughts. The planets need to align before Dylan ever opens up about anything, so we don’t rush him. “See, the thing is...I can’t have kids. I’m not going to get into the details, but that’s what’s bothering me.”

“Have you told Isabella about this?” I ask.

“Yeah, she knows. She knew about this before we even got back together. It was something that came out during those anger management sessions we had with Dr. Burkman.”

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