“I might have mentioned it,” Travis smirked.
Joe laughed.
“What are you guys saying?” Matt called out suspiciously.
“Nothing,” they said in unison.
Later, with the sun down and the food eaten, Moby curled up at Travis’s feet. As he listened to the sound of the kids splashing away in the spa, Travis felt a wave of satisfaction wash over him. This was his favorite kind of evening, whiled away to the sound of shared laughter and familiar banter. One minute Allison was talking to Joe; the next minute she was chatting with Liz and then Laird or Matt; and so on for everyone seated around the outdoor table. No pretenses, no attempts to impress, no one trying to show anyone up. His life, he sometimes thought, resembled a beer commercial, and for the most part, he was content simply to ride the current of good feeling.
Every now and then, one of the wives would get up to check on the kids. Laird, Joe, and Matt, on the other hand, reserved their child-rearing duties at times like these to periodically raising their voices in hopes of calming down the kids or preventing them from teasing or accidentally hurting one another. Sure, one of the kids would throw a tantrum now and then, but most problems were solved with a quick kiss on a scraped knee or a hug that was as tender to watch from a distance as it must have been for the kid to receive.
Travis looked around the table, pleased that his childhood friends not only had become good husbands and fathers, but were still a part of his life. It didn’t always turn out that way. At thirty-two, he knew that life was sometimes a gamble, and he’d survived more than his share of accidents and falls, some of which should have inflicted far more serious bodily injury than they had. But it wasn’t just that. Life was unpredictable. Others he’d known growing up had already died in car accidents, been married and divorced, found themselves addicted to drugs or booze, or simply moved away from this tiny town, their faces already blurring in his memory. What were the odds that the four of them-who’d known one another since kindergarten-would find themselves in their early thirties still spending weekends together? Pretty small, he thought. But somehow, after hanging together through all the adolescent acne and girl troubles and pressure from their parents, then heading off to four different colleges with differing career goals, they had each, one by one, moved back here to Beaufort. They were more like family than friends, right down to coded expressions and shared experiences that no outsiders could ever fully understand.
And miraculously, the wives got along, too. They’d come from different backgrounds and different parts of the state, but marriage, motherhood, and the endless gossip of small-town America were more than enough to keep them chatting regularly on the phone and bonding like long-lost sisters. Laird had been the first to marry-he and Allison had tied the knot the summer after they graduated from Wake Forest; Joe and Megan walked the aisle a year later, after falling in love during their senior year at North Carolina. Matt, who’d gone to Duke, met Liz here in Beaufort, and they were married a year after that. Travis had been the best man in all three weddings.
Some things had changed in the past few years, of course, largely because of the new additions to the families. Laird wasn’t always available to go mountain biking, Joe couldn’t join Travis on the spur of the moment to go skiing in Colorado as he used to, and Matt had all but given up trying to keep up with him on most things. But that was okay. They were all still available enough, and among the three of them-and with enough planning-he was still able to make the most of his weekends.
Lost in thought, Travis hadn’t realized that the conversation had lapsed.
“Did I miss something?”
“I asked if you’d talked to Monica lately,” Megan said, her tone letting Travis know he was in trouble. All six of them, he thought, took a bit too much interest in his love life. The trouble with married people was that they seemed to believe that everyone they knew should get married. Every woman Travis dated was thus subjected to subtle, though unyielding, evaluation, especially by Megan. She was usually the ringleader at moments like these, always trying to figure out what made Travis tick when it came to women. And Travis, of course, loved nothing more than to push her buttons in return.
“Not recently,” he said.
“Why not? She’s nice.”
She’s also more than a little neurotic, Travis thought. But that was beside the point.
“She broke up with me, remember?”
“So? It doesn’t mean she doesn’t want you to call.”
“I thought that’s exactly what it meant.”
Megan, along with Allison and Liz, stared at him as if he were just plain dense. The guys, as usual, seemed to be enjoying this. It was a regular feature of their evenings.
“But you were fighting, right?”
“So?”
“Did you ever think she might have simply broken up with you because she was angry?”
“I was angry, too.”
“Why?’
“She wanted me to see a therapist.”
“And let me guess-you said you didn’t need to see one.”
“The day I need to see a therapist is the day you see me hike up my skirt and crochet some mittens.”
Joe and Laird laughed, but Megan’s eyebrows shot up. Megan, they all knew, watched Oprah nearly every day.
“You don’t think men need therapy?”
“I know I don’t.”
“But generally speaking?”
“Since I’m not a general, I really couldn’t say.”
Megan leaned back in her chair. “I think Monica might be on to something. If you ask me, I think you have commitment issues.”
“Then I’ll make sure not to ask you.”
Megan leaned forward. “What’s the longest you’ve ever dated someone? Two months? Four months?”
Travis pondered the question. “I dated Olivia for almost a year.”
“I don’t think she’s talking about high school,” Laird cracked. Occasionally, his friends enjoyed throwing him under the bus, so to speak.
“Thanks, Laird,” Travis said.
“What are friends for?”
“You’re changing the subject,” Megan reminded him.
Travis drummed his fingers on his leg. “I guess I’d have to say… I can’t remember.”
“In other words, not long enough to remember?”
“What can I say? I’ve yet to meet any woman who could measure up to any of you.”
Despite the growing darkness, he could tell she was pleased by his words. He’d learned long ago that flattery was his best defense at moments like these, especially since it was usually sincere. Megan, Liz, and Allison were terrific. All heart and loyalty and generous common sense.
“Well, just so you know, I like her,” she said.
“Yeah, but you like everyone I date.”
“No, I don’t. I didn’t like Leslie.”
None of the wives had liked Leslie. Matt, Laird, and Joe, on the other hand, hadn’t minded her company at all, especially when she wore her bikini. She was definitely a beauty, and while she wasn’t the type he’d ever marry, they’d had a lot of fun while it lasted.
“I’m just saying that I think you should give her a call,” she persisted.
“I’ll think about it,” he said, knowing he wouldn’t. He rose from the table, angling for an escape. “Anyone need another beer?”
Joe and Laird lifted their bottles in unison; the others shook their heads. Travis started for the cooler before hesitating near the sliding glass door of his house. He darted inside and changed the CD, listening to the strains of new music filtering out over the yard as he brought the beers back to the table. By then, Megan, Allison, and Liz were already chatting about Gwen, the woman who did their hair. Gwen always had good stories, many of which concerned the illicit predilections of the town’s citizens.
Travis nursed his beer silently, looking out over the water.