Page 74 of The No Try Zone
“Even though the rest of us aren’t,” Sam says pointedly.
She’s been different all day today, but it’s a good thing. This whole “secret marriage with benefits” is working out beautifully: I get Sam in my bed every night, and no stress at work during the day. It seems like she’s adjusted just as well as I have.
My sister nudges me, and I plop the paper crown on my head to smile for the picture that Sam convinces our server to take. The delight on Sam and Ollie’s faces is priceless, and I let myself wonder what it might be like if all this were real. How it would have felt to introduce Sam as my wife to my sister and mother. To finally admit to Ollie that he and I were more than a coach and player, more than mentor and mentee.
I think of my dad, who whenever he was home was either passed out on the couch or belittling Mom and keeping her under his thumb. With that as my example, it’s no wonder I’ve thought of marriage as a trap. I’m not sure that I don’t still think that. But what Sam and I have right now is good. It’s not perfect, but it’s working.
This is the right thing to do. I know it is. Look at how today went. Look at Ollie. Hell, look at Sam. We’re all good. Great, actually.
Mom looks over at me as she chews her salad. “So tell us, Colin. Have you met anyone yet?”
Sam’s fork pauses halfway to her mouth for the briefest of seconds as the rest of the table’s attention swings to me.
“Not really,” I mutter, then take a too-big bite of steak.
“What’s that mean? ‘Not really?’” Erin asks, far too happy to make me squirm. “Meaning, you’ve met someone but it’s not serious? Or you haven’t met anyone?”
I make a note to kill her later.
Ollie chortles. “Hate to break it to you, but Coach here doesn’t have a life. All he does is rugby.” He pauses, looking over at me thoughtfully. “I mean, no disrespect or anything. But if we got you some better clothes, maybe?”
Erin and Mom laugh while Sam’s cheeks go cherry red with the smile she’s trying to hold back.
Ollie looks at his sister. “I’m right, aren’t I? The pants, Coach,ugh.” He groans theatrically.
“Aw, he’s not that bad,” Sam says, finally coming to my defense.
“Yes, he is,” Erin says. “But there’s no changing him. He’ll wear the same pair of khakis until they get holes in them, and then he’ll buy another pair.”
“He’s always been like that,” Mom says, getting in on the outright bullying. “Even as a boy he was always wearing the same things. His favorite shirt was this rainbow-striped –”
“Okay, Mom,” I interrupt. “That’s plenty.”
But Sam’s eyes are bright with mirth, and even though she’s not saying anything, I know she wants to.
That’s what’s working, though: silence. To her right, Ollie grins like a kid at Christmas. “Rainbow stripes, eh, Coach?”
“He was such a cute little boy,” Mom says. “Always so diligent. Wanted to be sure he did his best at whatever he was focused on.”
Sam coughs.
“Honestly, let’s please stop,” I beg, catching Sam’s eye again. I can read her like a book. I see how she’s straightened a bit, and I bet she’s clenched her legs together beneath the table. Because I am, in fact,quitediligent. And incredibly thorough.
Mercifully, they drop it. We finish with dinner and leave the restaurant, Ollie and Sam getting into Ollie’s Bronco and Mom and Erin joining me in my Cherokee.
“I wish you’d stay at my house,” I tell them again, turning the vehicle toward their hotel.
“We didn’t want to impose,” Mom insists.
“Besides, you’re paying for the room, so we’re not out anything,” Erin teases.
I roll my eyes. “Thank you two for coming. I wish you were staying longer.”
“And leave the dogs at the kennel longer?” Mom says, a fond smile on her face.
I give her a look, and the smile grows.
“You’re busy,” she says. “Besides, it’s not time for a long visit.”
