Page 92 of A Love That Broke Us
I’mreallyexcited for the Berkshires trip next week, especially with it landing on Super Bowl weekend. I’ve fallen hard for football this season, and I’m not mad about it. I even joined two fantasy leagues: one with Jensen’s family and one Michael started with our dad, Adam, Leo, and a few others. The leagues are over, but the trash talk hasn’t stopped. Jensen won in the Adams family league, and one of Leo’s buddies, Ryan, took the win in Michael’s.
As we reach the exit, we all stop to hug goodbye. I push the heavy door open, walk to the curb, and hail a cab. I slide into the back seat for the five-minute ride home, watching out the window as it starts to flurry. I hate the cold, but I love the snow. I lean back in the cab, giving in to the smile tugging on my lips. It’s going to be a great day.
Everyone’s wearing a Bengals jersey.Everyone… except Matt, who just walked into the kitchen wearing a Rams jersey and the biggest smartass grin I’ve ever seen.
Jensen laughs when he sees him. “Bro. You’ve got to be kidding me. Wipe that shit-eating grin off your face and go change. That jersey’s banned in this house.”
Matt chuckles. “Fuck off. This is my house. You’ll be wishing you had one in a few hours.”
Kevin pipes in. “Seriously, dude. You don’t like the Rams. You just did that to piss us off.”
I can’t help but laugh. They’re absolutely ridiculous, arguing like it’s life or death over a team they don’t usually root for. Things are about to get heated. We all chipped into the Super Bowl squares pool, so the trash talk is only going to get worse as the night goes on.
“What are you talking about? I love the Rams,” Matt says, rounding the kitchen island with a smirk. “You assholes are all going down. All my money’s on Stafford.” He leans in, lowering his voice near my ear. “I totally did it to piss them off.”
I laugh again, slicing open another pack of cheese for the charcuterie board, the chaos around me oddly comforting. I couldn’t tell you why the Adams siblings are all-in on the Bengals because they’re die-hard Jets fans. I’m just along for the ride, but I was told it wasveryimportant that I wear a Bengals jersey. So, I did—though Jensen was deeply upset that I had to wear pants.
We’re back in the Berkshires. We got here three days ago, and it’s been a blast so far. I’ve needed this.We’veneeded this—time away to destress and reconnect. It’s been really, really good.
And yes, I delivered my now-annual tradition of road head on the way up.
“You need therapy, Matt,” Megan calls from across the kitchen. “There are other ways to deal with Jordan not coming.” She pauses, realizing what she said. “Ha. No pun intended.”
Kevin snorts while Jensen high-fives her.
“Oh, Jordan’s coming, Meg,” Jensen says. “She’s just not coming with Matt.”
Yep. That’s my sweet, sweet husband. And I love him all the more for it.
“I mean, we’re all here, Matt. We all came. What’s wrong—you can’t make Jordan come?” Jensen slaps him on the back, and Megan spits her drink out with laughter, wine spraying across the counter.
“Jesus, Megan. Get it together,” Kevin says, cracking up.
Matt’s face does it for me. I can’t hold back either. He’s a ticking time bomb, and I almost feel bad—almost.
“Ha. Ha. Ha. You’re allsofunny. She’s with Dr. Douchebag again this weekend.”
“Is every guy Jordan dates going to be a douchebag?” Megan asks, one eyebrow raised.
Matt scoffs, eyes darting to the side. “For the record, I made her come two weeks ago. Joke’s on you fuckers.” He flips both middle fingers up, grabs his drink off the counter and storms off to the living room, flopping onto the couch beside Jeff, who’s glued to his phone.
Jensen raises his brows at me, grinning.
“That was mean, babe,” I say, smothering my smile.
“He asked for every bit of it by wearing that jersey.”
“You got that right,” Megan adds.
“Besides,” Jensen points to Megan. “She started it with the whole coming innuendo.”
Megan grins proudly, dramatically rolling her shoulders and stretching her neck like she’s gearing up for a fight. “He shouldn’t mess. He knows better.”
Megan tosses the salad one last time while I pull the wings from the oven, the heat warming my face as I set them beside the rolls. We’ve got quite the spread, and I can’t wait to load up my plate, cuddle up next to Jensen, and watch the sibling banter.
Oh yeah, and the game.
At halftime,all the guys head into the kitchen for more drinks and food. Jensen grabs a beer and vanishes down the hallway toward our room.
