Page 7 of Pucking the Grump

“Guys! Bring it in!” I pounce on the happy couple, wrapping them up in a slightly damp hug, making Tank stiffen and Stephanie giggle. Stepping back, I add, “Congratulations. I’m so happy for you. What amazing news. Put me down for a crib or a stroller or something. Whatever you need.”

“Slow down, we aren’t anywhere close to buying baby stuff yet,” Tank warns, but the happiness radiating off of him is a beautiful thing to behold.

“But we appreciate it,” Stephanie says, leaning into his side, giving him a quick hug. “Now, let’s eat! Apparently, if I don’t consume something every hour on the hour, I get sick.”

We settle back around the table, the mood lighter now. Stephanie nurses a bottle of water with her food, while Tank and I work on our beers. We discuss their baby plans— they still need to set up the nursery in their new apartment, find more help for Stephanie at the yoga studio before the due date, and figure out the best timing for their impending marriage to make sure Steph and the baby are covered by the best health insurance possible.

Each subject feels more intimidatingly adult to me than the last, despite the fact that I’m older than both of them. It makes me wonder if I’ve Peter Panned too long and am about to find out what happens when the grown-ups leave Neverland—and me—behind.

“So,” Stephanie says as we reach a lull in the conversation. “Now that we’ve shared our big news, want to tell us what’s really bothering you? Might it have something to do with Remy and whatever we interrupted on Friday afternoon? Are things getting serious between you two?”

Tank lifts his hands in surrender. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to tell her. It just kind of slipped out.”

“But we won’t tell anyone,” Steph rushes to assure me. “Not ever. We’re a safe space for anything you want to disclose or discuss. Remy does come to hot yoga sometimes, but I rarely see her at the stadium. And no matter where I see her, I promise to keep my mouth shut.”

Great. Now I’m imagining Remy at hot yoga, all sweaty and bent over in tight spandex.

That’s not helping the sad at all.

I sigh. “It’s fine. No worries. But sadly, there’s nothing to discuss. She put me in time out for the foreseeable future. Said she needed to focus on work and everything else she has going on. Which I get, I totally do… I just…”

“You’re just into her,” Tank says, direct but not unkind. “Really into her, if you’re willing to keep risking Coach finding out that you’re banging his daughter and gutting you like a big blond fish.”

“Yep, looks like it.” I take another swig of beer. “But it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t feel the same way. She’s made that clear by telling me to buzz off. Multiple times. This is only the latest installment in the ‘Go Away, Stone, No More Remy Kisses for You’ saga.”

Stephanie exchanges a look with Tank that I can’t quite decipher. “I mean, maybe that’s the case,” she says carefully. “But maybe not. Sometimes people push others away because they’re scared.”

“Remy’s not scared of anything,” I counter with a snort. “Except maybe germs. She’s kind of a neat freak.”

“Everyone’s scared of something,” Stephanie insists. “And if she keeps coming back for more after she’s pushed you away…”

I drain the last of my beer. “Maybe,” I finally admit. “But if she were going to change her mind and decide I’m worth keeping around long term, it would have happened by now, right? At this point, continuing to hope would just be sadistic. Or masochistic? Which one means I’ve got a hard-on for pain? I always forget.”

“Masochistic,” Stephanie supplies. “And you could be right, but it might be worth a serious conversation, you know? Just to clear the air and get some clarity on where you both stand?”

I pull a face. “Ugh. Serious conversations give me hives.”

“But sometimes they’re necessary.” Tank leans forward, fixing me with that intense stare that intimidated me a little bit when I first met him, back when we were rookies together in Seattle. “Have you ever told her how you feel?”

I roll my eyes. “I mean, no, not flat out. But I haven’t exactly tried to hide it, either. It’s there, right in front of her face, if she had any interest in seeing it.”

“So, you’re expecting her to read your mind,” he says, arching a judgmental brow. “Sounds like she’s not the only one who’s scared.”

“Hey, that’s not fair,” I protest. “She’s made it clear since day one that all she wants is casual sex. No strings attached. She spelled it out for me in big, bold letters. Dumping feelings on her when I knew exactly what I was getting into and agreed to the terms ahead of time would be a dick move.”

“Would it?” Stephanie asks. “Or is it more of a dick move to hide how you feel and pretend fuck buddies is still enough for you when it clearly isn’t?”

I scrub a hand over my face. “Fuck, you ask hard questions.” I glare Tank’s way. “You, too. She’s rubbing off on you.”

Tank’s lips hook up on one side. “I hope so. She’s smart. And perceptive.”

“And I’m perceiving now that you need a swim break,” Stephanie says, granting me a much-needed reprieve. “Just think on the hard questions. And know we only push because we care and think you’re great.”

Tank grunts. “I don’t know about that. A great guy would have brought more than one floatie.”

I grin. “Go look in the men’s bathroom, smartass. I just put them in there so they wouldn’t blow off the roof if the wind picked up. There’s a lobster for you and a frog for me, and I’m going to give Steph my flamingo because she’s the nicest and the prettiest and deserves a floatie with no bathroom germs on it.”

“Aw, you’re the sweetest,” Steph says, rising to her feet. “I’m headed for my flamingo, then. It’s getting hot.”

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