Page 35 of The Coach

“Seriously, I’ve never heard him talk about someone like he talks about you.” She raises a brow at me. “And I’ve been around a while. Tanner is choosy when it comes to women.”

I sit back in the chair, feigning disinterest when I say, “You know a lot about him.”

She waves a hand and laughs. “We’ve been through it. Without Tanner, I wouldn’t be where I am today. Back in the day, he had to help me pull my head out of my ass and see what was right in front of me.”

“You guys are tight.” I observe.

“He really is one of my best friends,” she replies with a shrug of her shoulders, completely neutral about it.

“That doesn’t bother Devon?” I don’t even mean for the words to slip past my lips, but something compels me to say them, to get them out in the open when, really, I should have kept them to myself. I cringe to myself. Why did I ask that question?

Robin looks at me like I’m crazy, then like something clicks, she nods and hums. “Oh, honey, I have nothing but sisterly feelings toward Tanner. Always have, always will.”

I release a breath. “How did that come about?” I ask, feeling more comfortable as she explains how they became best friends. By the end of her story, I’m laughing so hard I’m afraid to spill my drink.

I go to take another drink but find it empty. “Oh, wow, how did that happen?”

Robin giggles full-on next to me and grasps my wrist. “That’s what happens when you meet a new best friend.”

I smile at her, probably wider than I mean to, and turn when I feel a presence behind us. Tanner is standing there, arms propped on the top of the doorframe and looking at me with a fond smile on his face. I get distracted with how tight his long-sleeved shirt is and say nothing for a few minutes.

“You girls having fun?” he asks with a tease in his voice.

“Sure are,” Robin replies. “Did the food get here yet?”

He nods. “Just came. Come on, drunkies, let’s eat.”

Robin laughs and stands. I follow suit, and she half turns, talking over her shoulder. “I hope you don’t mind, normally I’d cook, but I don’t know where half my cooking supplies are.”

I wave her off, “Not at all, I can’t imagine keeping up with all those kids.”

“Eh, you’ll figure that out someday,” she replies nonchalantly, but it makes me pause for a moment.

Perhaps it’s the alcohol, but I feel every movement slow down as I take in my surroundings. I walk into the dining room and see Devon and Robin wrangling their two kids into chairs and asking them what they want, prepping plates, and making sure napkins are in laps. One kid yells, and the other starts to cry because Devon gave the other one corn first. Then a baby cries, and I look over at the corner and see a rocking baby seat with a very upset baby in it.

Tanner makes himself useful and walks over, taking the baby out and rocking them side to side, shushing them as he goes, and I… stand perfectly still. Like one move from me is going to set off the bomb that I definitely feel coming.

Tanner seems so calm, like this is effortless for him, and I can’t even fathom walking over to a screaming baby and picking them up like there was nothing to it.

That scared me. A lot.

And another thing that was terrifying me was that Tanner seems into this. He wants this. A family, kids, the coming together of two people who somehow end up making themselves a little home just like this.

Did I want kids? Yes. But way, way in the future.

I want a home and family someday.

Someday being the key word.

I open my mouth to give some sort of excuse, some sort of reason why I have to get out of here right now, when Robin turns to me and says, “Hey Mick, do you mind grabbing that bottle right behind you?”

I turn, grabbing the bottle and going to hand it to Tanner. He takes it from me and plops it into the very grateful baby’s mouth, and they settle, their eyes fluttering while they gulp the milk down, and Tanner smiles at me, placing a kiss on my cheek.

I glance at the table and see Robin smiling at her daughter, who’s laughing and eating her food, their son sitting fairly calmly beside them and eating his food.

In the span of five minutes, it went from full-blown tantrums to actual calm.

“Sorry, they see food, and it’s suddenly a world war over here,” Devon says, clearly seeing my shell-shocked face. “They act like we’re not going to feed them the food we order sometimes. Like we’ll sit in front of them and eat without them.”

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