“I’m only in town for a few days,” he says, taking a step closer. “And I can’t make promises for anything beyond that. But if you say yes, I can promise you these few days will be the best of your life. I hope you don’t like wearing clothes.”
“Wow,” I say faintly. “That… doesn’t do a thing for me.”
His brow furrows. “I’m serious.”
And because my life is terrible, I say, “Hi, Serious, I’m Bear.”
He takes a step back. “Did you just… did you just make a dad joke?”
I bang my head on the top of the bar. “I am going to fucking kill him.”
“I have to be honest, that made you a little less attractive to me right now. And who are you going to kill? I’ve got a really good lawyer, just in case. Say the word, and I’ll—”
“Otter,” I say, lifting my head from the bar. “Otter’s going to kill me.”
“Otter,” Isaiah says slowly, eyes widening. “That guy you were dating that absolutely hated me all those years ago?”
“He didn’t hate you,” I say. “He just didn’t like the fact that you were alive.”
He looks a little shocked. “Are you two still together?”
“Well, yeah. We’re married. And you know what? Maybe I should get the name of your lawyer, because all the lawyers I know are jerks who get all up in our business. And when you’re called to testify, you have to really sell how sad you were when I made a dad joke, because that is the only way that I’ll be found innocent. Like, really sell it. Tears, maybe. And then I’ll cry too, telling the jury that my husband just changed after he found out we were having twins, and started telling inadvertent dad jokes, and you know what else? I caught him the other day wearing tube socks. With shorts.” I pause for a moment, considering. “Okay, and maybe that says something bad about me that I found it to be really fucking hot, but Jesus Christ. What’s next? A fanny pack? Is that what’s really in our future? It’s like he was made for this. He’s going to dad all over the place, and why do I find that so attractive? There has to be something wrong with me, right? I mean, what if he goes to PTA meetings and just takes charge? Because we all know that Mrs. Kennington is a bitch who thinks her shit don’t stink, and maybe Otter would come in and put her in her place and—whoa. I would totally sex him up in the janitor’s closet after that. God, it has to be the hormones, right? I mean, I know I’m not pregnant, but there has to be some kind of transference. Because tube socks and PTA meetings should not be making me feel like this. We’re supposed to be role-playing stranger danger tonight, anyway. He’s going to be some businessman from out of town, and I’m going to be—well, I said I was going to be the small-town lounge singer, but he said I can’t sing, then I said I wanted a divorce, and then he said there was no way in hell I would ever get away from him, then I said that was creepy and you’re still wearing tube socks, you big, sexy freak. I mean, you know?”
Isaiah stares at me.
I have another sip of wine.
“I think I dodged a bullet here,” he finally says.
“Probably,” I agree.
“You’re married.”
“To Otter.”
“Who didn’t like me. At all.”
“Well, you did your best to try and put my dick in your mouth back then.”
He chokes. “That is not—”
I snort.
“Okay. Maybe I did. But to be fair, I did that with a lot of people.”
I roll my eyes. “I feel so special.”
“You’re not wearing your wedding ring.”
I look down at my bare finger. There’s a tan line there, but the bar is dimly lit, so it’s hard to make out. “Right. We’re role-playing.”
His grin comes back. “Maybe we could role-play a threesome.”
“I dare you to say that when he gets here.”
He pales a little. “You know what? I think I’m going to go. Bear, it was nice seeing you again. Feel free to look me up if the whole marriage/fatherhood thing doesn’t work out for you.” With that, he slams the rest of his drink, winks at me, then turns and—
Walks straight into Otter.