Page 75 of Puck Yes

With a grin that comes from knowing what’s on the reward agenda, I pick up the speed and leave him to chase my luck.

29

YOU CAN SHARE IT

Hayes

A few weeks ago, I was considering camping out at Gage’s bar to resist Ivy.

Now I’m indulging in temptation.

On Friday afternoon, I hit the gym down the street for a workout, and when I leave, I spot a flash of dark wavy hair. My wife is walking quickly up the block. She’s wearing a cute pink sundress that’s temptingly short and high-top Converse sneakers. She posted a piece this morning about what to wear when you want to feel like your best self. Is that what she’s doing right now?

Impulsively, I pick up the pace and draw up next to her.

“Hey. Did you just come from a meeting about a potential gig?” I ask.

“How did you know?” she asks, slowing her speed.

“This outfit seems to hit that mark. Like you feel like your best self.”

A smile tips her lips. “I met with an editor for a fashion site. She might have some work for me.” She crosses her fingers. Then she gives in to curiosity and asks, “You read my newsletter?”

“Yes. Every piece.”

Her gaze softens more, her eyes dancing. “I didn’t know that. I knew Stefan did.”

“We both do,” I add. “He just likes to brag about it.”

She laughs then takes a beat, tilting her head, then surprising me when she says, “You have a telescope.”

“That’s random.”

“It’s yours, right? On the rooftop?”

The question seems important to her, like the answer will give her insight. I get an antsy feeling like I’ve drunk too much coffee. Like I need to pop on my headphones and blast music too loud to think. Things I feel when I don’t want to open up.

But Ivy’s eyes are wide with genuine curiosity. Another temptation I can’t resist—giving her this piece of the puzzle. “I like stars. And planets.”

“They go together,” she says wryly.

“My granddads are really into astronomy,” I tell her. That’s the simple part. The rest is not. “My dad and I had a complicated relationship when I was younger. We still do. I spent more time with his parents than with him. I’m closer to them.”

She only seems puzzled for a moment, then it clicks, and she asks, “Your dad has two dads?”

“Yes. Ryan and Bryan.”

“That’s adorable. Their matching names.”

“They’re adorableandornery.”

“What are they like?” she asks as we walk.

“They run an ice rink in Petaluma. I spent a lot of time there when I was younger.”

“Did you drive a Zamboni?” She doesn’t hide her excitement at that prospect.

“I did, and it’s as fun as it sounds.”

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