Page 105 of Puck Yes

We feel like a team in some strange way, getting ready for the event together. But before I linger too long on that thought, I nod toward the couch where a wrapped gift waits for…our woman.

“And since you picked our clothes, we get to pick yours,” I say.

“We are excellent at shopping too,” Stefan, my partner in crime, adds.

Ivy gestures to the flouncy red dress she’s wearing, shooting us a quizzical look. “I already picked my dress. I’m not golfing, so I don’t have to wear golf pants.”

I step forward, tugging up the skirt of her dress. She’s wearing white cotton panties. “Did I say we got you a dress?”

Her lips part. “Oh.”

Stefan heads to the living room. “We got you something we can play with later,” he says, then returns with a white box with a red bow.

When she opens the box and tugs out a pair of red lace panties with a tiny wearable vibrator built into the fabric, her breath catches.

“Put it in your purse. We’ll tell youwhento put the panties on,” Stefan says, then dips his hand into his pocket, brandishing the remote and handing it to me. “And then we’ll decide when to turn you on.”

With a glossy look in her eyes, she complies, tucking the gift inside her purse where, I hope, it’ll set her on fire all day long.

We leave, and Ivy looks like she’s already turned on.

* * *

We arrive together at the golf course, but I feel off. It’s strange to step out of my car with my wife and my buddy. I feel like a liar. Well, Iama liar. I’ve been faking everything.

Have you, though, man?

That’s the thing. After the valet takes our clubs out of the car, then drives off to park it, we walk to the clubhouse, but Ifeellike I’m faking something. And it’s no longer the marriage to Ivy.

It’s the truth of who we are behind closed doors. I hate kissing her goodbye at the entrance to the clubhouse when Stefan’s not doing the same. This course is owned by Wilder Blaine, who also owns the Renegades football team in this city. The billionaire has a young daughter, so he wanted this place to be more family-friendly and he added a mini-golf course for kids. Since Ivy doesn’t play regular golf, she made plans with Trina to play mini golf while we’re here, but I feel like shit watching her walk away after kissing her.

This is the opposite of the warm feeling I had in my chest at home. This is something I never expected. Something I’m not even sure how to deal with.

Except…maybe I do know how to deal with it.

Head-on.

I steal a glance at my college friend, the team captain, the guy I’ve come to know in all the ways. We head on over to the golf carts, where the valet sent our clubs. I glance around, making sure the coast is clear. We’re alone on the path. “Stef,” I begin.

“Yeah?”

But what am I saying? What am I asking? How the hell do I do this?

We stop on a grassy hill several feet from the carts. “She doesn’t feel like just mine,” I blurt out, because fuck it, sometimes you just have to rip off the Band-Aid.

He smiles, slow and easy. “That so?”

“She really doesn’t,” I say, dragging a hand through my already messy hair.

This is so hard, opening myself up. I don’t want to be like my dad. Don’t want to wear my heart on my sleeve. Don’t want to fall and get hurt.

But something shifted when Ivy fell on the ice.

I shifted.

I power through, no matter how uncomfortable I feel voicing my emotions. No matter how much easier it is to be cold, I try to be the opposite. “It’s hard to think about this ending tomorrow night. There’s no wedding to go to anymore,” I point out. That was one of the reasons Ivy and I were staying married. The plan was to peter out after these public appearances, including this one today, then quietly get divorced.

“She doesn’t need a wedding date,” Stefan says, open-ended, waiting for me to supply the next link in the logic chain.