Page 43 of Scoring Chance

“I know. That’s what makes it worse.”

He nudges me again. “You did good today, Des.”

And just like that, something settles in me. Like maybe I could belong here. Like maybe I’m not just faking it.

13

TANNER

There was something about dropping off the kids at school that always left me a little lighter on my feet.

Maybe it was the brief silence that followed. Maybe it was knowing they were safe for a few hours, learning about ecosystems and long division while I got to pretend—for just a second—that I had my life in order.

One of the benefits of not having a job is that I didn’t have to rush through drop-off. I could indulge them (and myself) with extra hugs and hear about all the recess gossip.

This morning, as I watched Lulu strut into her kindergarten classroom in her glittery rain boots, hand-in-hand with a teacher she adored, I found myself smiling wider than usual.

And not just because I’d remembered to pack Dean’s lunch and sign Lena’s field trip form.

Des had made breakfast.

The omelets looked passable, edible. But my favorite part was the smile on his face, the same kind that Dean and Lulu get when they show off an A on a quiz. I couldn’t stop thinking about the way his cheeks lifted and eyes widened with pride on his strong face. Even now, hours later, as I walked back through the school parking lot and nearly tripped over someone’s forgotten water bottle.

It shouldn’t have been so attractive. The way Des had held the frying pan like it was radioactive. The way he’d helped Lulu cut her omelet into bite-size pieces. The way the laughter of the chaos echoed on the walls. I miss hearing someone else’s laughter.

Des was trying.

He didn’t have to. This whole thing is a front—a strategy to keep jobs and medical coverage. But this morning, Des had been someone else entirely. He’s playing the part, even though he doesn’t have to.

And I liked that someone. A lot. Des as doting husband and harried dad. I could get used to it.

“Hey, Tanner!”

I turn and spot Russ waving at me across the parking lot, his crisp dress shirt remaining tucked into his also crisp dress pants as he jogs up to me. Right behind him is his portly husband Cal, wearing a Golden Girls T-shirt and cargo shorts, and a grin that made him look like he’d just won the lottery in someone else’s name.

How these two ever wound up falling in love is one of the great mysteries of the universe. Even oil and water seemed to have more in common. They had wound up in a power struggle over leading their sons’ scouting troop, which apparently was a form of extended foreplay.

It’s always great seeing them. We gay dads need to stick together. Although, the urgency in Russ’s march gives me pause.

“Tanner,” he says.

“That’s me.”

Cal pushes past his husband and wraps me in a tight hug. “I heard about what happened.” He leans in. “With the job,” he whispers.

“I’ll be okay, Cal.” I pat his shoulder, wondering why I’m consoling him right now.

“I don’t know what your company did, but I’m never patronizing them again.”

“Thanks, bud.”

“There may be an opening in my department, as a matter of fact,” Russ says.

I offer a polite smile, wondering if our friendship could survive in an office where Russ is likely very meticulous. Working on school committees with him made me feel like Anne Hathaway in The Devil Wears Prada at times.

“Thanks for keeping me in mind,” I say as diplomatically as possible.

“He’s not going to work for you,” Cal says.