Page 29 of The Winging It Holiday Special

Gabe snorted. Yeah, Dante couldn’t imagine him attempting it either. “As if.”

They stood there a few more moments, wrapped up in each other, swaying gently back and forth, and then Gabe made a questioning noise.

“Hmm?” Dante asked without moving his head from Gabe’s shoulder.

When Gabe spoke, the confusion in his voice came through clearly. “Since when do we have a massage chair?”

12. New Year’s Eve

DANTE DIDN’Tknow if Gabe’s recent habit of skipping out on postgame outings was related to the brooding, or if now that he’d decided to retire he was determined to enjoy every moment he had left, but he hadn’t missed a night out since games resumed on the twenty-seventh.

That was only three games, but it was a fun change of pace.

Tonight was their last home game before a long stretch on the road, and Gabe and Olie had booked a private hall for a New Year’s party. It was almost eleven by the time the team bus arrived. Most of the guys’ dates were there already, but Dante got to walk in with Gabe on one arm and a bottle of champagne collared in the other hand.

Hashtag winning—even if it took a shootout to do it.

With a hall full of hockey players, the caterers served dinner right away. By the time they’d cleared the plates, the first bottle of champagne had evaporated and the table had made serious inroads on three more.

As the responsible husband, Dante figured it was his job to make sure they had enough carbs in their stomachs to stave off the worst of a hangover, so he piled a big plate from the dessert table to share. But when he got back, his chair had been co-opted by Bogs’s girlfriend, who was deep in discussion with Adele about either container gardening or some arcane grooming ritual. Between the volume of the music and the French, he couldn’t tell.

Oh well. He set the plate down in front of Gabe, who was deeply invested in Olie’s pictures of the renovation of Christian’snursery, nudged him into moving his chair back, and sat on his lap.

Without looking up, Gabe wrapped an arm around his waist to anchor him. Dante grabbed a grape from the plate and popped it into his mouth.That’s love, bitch.

“Oh my God.” Dante glanced up and found Crunch looking on in fascination. “Is this why he doesn’t come out usually?”

Gabe didn’t react, too busy with nursery pics.

Dante put on an affronted tone. “Are you calling me fat?”

“Please do not start talking about your milkshake,” Crunch begged. “Like, your ass is huge. We know it. You know it. People in Antarctica know it.”

This time Gabe did chime in, though he didn’t look up. “It is your best asset.”

“Thanks, babe.” Dante kissed the side of his head.

Crunch made an aggrieved noise. “Seriously? No one ever tells you to get a room?”

“No, and neither will you,” Bogs said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Because generally speaking, they have one and they will use it.”

“Augh!” Crunch made a face like he’d bitten into a wormy apple. “It’s like watching your parents have sex.”

“Don’t make me put you over my knee,” Dante threatened.

Now everyone, including Gabe, was looking at him.

“What? If he’s going to act like a brat, I’m going to treat him like one.”

Crunch opened his mouth to protest, but apparently he thought better of it, because he shrugged and said, “Yeah, that’s fair.”

Bogs patted his shoulder again. “Attaboy.”

Gabe didn’t laugh out loud, but Dante could feel his chest shaking with it. Finally he finished looking at the pictures and handed the phone back to Olie. “Thanks.”

Dante nudged him. “Contractor recommendations?” he asked quietly.

Gabe shifted his gaze sideways but didn’t answer. Dante wasn’t surprised. They’d agreed the whole enterprise was need-to-know until they had a baby and the related paperwork. It made sense. If Dante had to explain to someone that they were not having a baby after all…. Better to viciously repress the possibility.

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