The Secret Hook-Up

In the three years since Addie let me back into her life, I’ve discovered there are things I love doing with her.

And then there are things I hate doing with her.

Dress shopping falls into the hate category.

Mostly because it involves a lot of unsatisfied boners coupled with fears that I’ll hurt her again.

“No,” I say to her as she holds up a slinky silver dress in the same dress shop where we re-met. “If you want that one, just put it on my card right now because I’ll be cutting it off of you in the dressing room.”

She snickers.

Paisley does too.

“I’m kidding,” she tells me. “I don’t want to try on that dress.”

“Why are you so cranky?” Paisley asks. “You always say you love it when Addie wears dresses.”

“He’s a total caveman when he sees naked women, and he won’t let me go into the changing room alone,” Addie tells her.

Paisley sticks out her tongue and crosses her eyes. “Filed under things I will never ask again because ew.”

“Have you found anything?”

“No, I—actually, hand over that silver dress. What size is it?”

We leave the shop two hours later with the silver dress for Paisley for her sorority’s fall formal and with Addie texting Waverly to ask how much it’ll cost us to get another custom gown.

It’s baseball’s All-Star break again, but we’re not shopping for a gown for an auction.

We’re shopping for a gown for an awards dinner hosted by the city, where my beautiful fiancée will be receiving the highest service award you can get in Copper Valley. And then we’re shopping for wedding dresses.

And no, I don’t let her shop for wedding dresses alone either.

Which is why she’s having it custom-made by her own favorite seamstress back in Minnesota.

Addie’s still texting with Waverly when her phone rings.

Paisley and I stop when Addie stops, a frown wrinkling her forehead. “Two seconds, it’s my boss,” she says.

“Tell him no if he wants you to auction something off,” I tell her.

She shushes me and swipes to answer. “Hey, Lila. How’s your break?”

“She should’ve been coaching at the All-Star game,” Paisley whispers to me.

Loudly.

Addie freezes, her mouth forming an O before a smile starts to take over. “He—but—oh. Well, yes. Of course. Absolutely, I’m ready… Tomorrow? You’re sure? I can be free today… Okay. Okay. Yes. Tomorrow. I’ll see you then. And Lila? Thank you.”

She hangs up the phone and stares at it.

After a moment, she lifts her face, and her eyes lock with mine.

And then she bursts into tears.

“H-happy,” she sobs as Paisley and I both attack her with hugs. “H-happy t-tears.”

“Why are we crying happy tears?” Paisley asks with a sniffle. “Dammit, Addie, you know I’m a sympathetic crier.”

I’m getting wet in the eyes too.

There are approximately three things in life that make Addie weepy.

Baseball movies.

Sometimes sex.

And hard-fought victories of her own or of someone she loves.

We’re not watching a movie.

We’re not having sex.

The Fireballs aren’t playing.

Which means⁠—

“Dusty’s on leave,” she says.

“On leave?”

“His dad’s sick. Has to go home.”

Dusty was chosen for the Fireballs’ manager position when Addie withdrew her name three years ago. He’s done a pretty good job too.

Playoffs every year.

Went to the World Series last year but didn’t quite get the job done.

Team still misses Cooper. Diego’s good, but no one can be Cooper Rock.

“They want me,” she whispers. “Next week. I start next week to finish the season.”

“Oh my god, you did it!” Paisley shrieks.

“Temporary,” Addie says. “It’s temporary.”

She swipes at her eyes while she’s crunched in between Paisley and me.

“But if you do a good job…” Paisley whispers.

“Yeah,” she whispers back.

“And if he doesn’t come back…”

“He’ll come back.”

But he won’t stay long.

We already know that.

Dusty’s been making noises about settling down with a woman he met in Seattle last year.

“What can I do to help?” I ask.

She shifts the Addie sandwich to squeeze me in a tight hug. “Keep being you.”

Easy enough.

“I need tickets for next week’s game,” Paisley says while she lets Addie go so I can hug her back just as tightly. “There’s zero chance I’m missing seeing my aunt be the team’s manager for the first time.”

“This is temporary,” Addie says into my neck.

It’s not.

I can feel it in my gut.

But if that’s what she needs me to agree with right now, then that’s what I’ll do.

“I’m so fucking proud of you,” I tell her.

“I’m so fucking grateful for you,” she replies.

“And I’m hungry,” Paisley announces. “Good news makes me want good food. Where can a girl get some poutine around here?”

“Loaded fries,” Addie and I say together.

And that’s how we end up celebrating her temporary-maybe-not-temporary promotion at the same little bar I used to play at every now and again.

Chuck’s still there.

I don’t like how he looks at my niece.

But that’s okay.

I’m retired.

I have time to make sure he doesn’t try anything he’ll regret.

When I’m not playing at little bars like this. Or walking our dog. Or helping the Croaking Creatures creators come up with even more new and inventive ways to make the creatures croak.

And podcasting about it.

And sometimes playing hockey in the old retired guys’ league.

This wasn’t where I thought life would take me.

It’s better.