Dr. D Spills the Tea

Sake

The sushi was delicious at the local hibachi joint.  We’d split the sushi platter and had a little sake just to wet our tongues—“I love him, you know.”  Smiling, he always wore this dreamy expression when he spoke about his counterpart, especially when any kind of alcohol was involved.  “He’s a stubborn bullhead but there’s nobody I’d rather spend my life with.”  With flushed cheeks, he frowned, eyes moving from his shrimp fried rice back to me.  “You deserve a good man, too.”

    “I thought George was a good man,” I admitted, popping another piece of volcano roll into my mouth.  I let out a groan at how delicious everything was.

    “In what world?” Phil snorted.  “He was always a rat.  Trying to trap you in marriage, in contracts.  I hated him for putting you on the spot with that public proposal.  It was all just a cop out to try to pressure you into accepting.”

    “And it worked,” I sighed, resting my chin on my hand.

    “Thank God his secretary was a w***e,” Phil muttered.

    “Phil,” I gasped, nudging him with my foot.

    “What?” he said around his rice.  “Would you rather find out after ten years of marriage to that small-pricked loser?”

    I giggled.  “You know, Theo said he probably had a small d**k too.”

    “We’re right, right?” Phil wondered, giving me a drawl look.

    I don’t know why it was funny, really.  Maybe the sake was getting to me but I just kept giggling.  When I went to pop more sushi, I found him gazing at me across the way and hesitated.  “What?”

    “I love you,” he sighed.

    Reaching across the table to pat his hand, I mumbled, “I love you too.”

    He chuckled softly.  “Are we drunk?”

    “You’re drunk,” I giggled.

    “We’re totally drunk,” Phil shook his head, already reaching for his phone.

    “Who are you calling?”

    “Who do you think?” he quirked a brow.

    “No, not Theo.  He’ll be mad at me for getting you drunk,” I hissed, reaching for his phone.

    He slapped at my hand.  “He’ll thank you,” he grinned, a gleam in his eyes.  When he’d finished texting him, he muttered, “He’ll be here in a few.”

    “To pick us up from the lunch date he was uninvited to,” I grumbled.

    “He’ll forgive us,” he said, smiling as he took another bite of sushi.

    “You mean he’ll forgive you,” I muttered, rolling my eyes.

. . .

Phil had latched onto Theo the moment he’d climbed into the truck, hugging his arm, whispering something in his ear.  Theo patted his thigh as he pulled out of the parking lot, his eyes focused on the road.  Thankfully, he didn’t look upset by the situation.

    I crossed my legs in the back, checking my messages, amused by the missed calls from George.  One message asked how I could do such a thing to him.

    What I wrote back was rather to the point:  “I’m a grown, single woman, George.  I’m glad to invite you to mind your own business.”

    Then, feeling a little extra saucy, I blocked him.

    “There’s ice cream at the house.  I figured I could spike some milkshakes for us.”

    “Yes,” Phil and I said in unison.

    I saw Theo roll his eyes in the rearview mirror as he pulled into their driveway.

    Stumbling inside, Phil and I were giggling quietly, Phil clinging to Theo, me clinging to Phil—and Theo suggested I just go barefoot.

    “You can’t just abandon the heels,” I insisted.  “I left the house with them on, I’ll return with them on.”  It’s a matter of pride, really.  Plus, I didn’t feel like bending down.

    Phil chuckled, his arm behind the back of me, supporting me quite a bit.

    Maybe we had gotten a little carried away.

    When Phil stumbled a little, I nearly toppled over and it was Theo who caught us both, carefully placing himself between us to help us navigate the front steps better.  “You’re cut off,” Theo muttered as he pulled out the keys to the house.

    “We still want milkshakes,” Phil whined.

    Theo pursed his lips.  “You can have milkshakes.  I’ll just spike my own.”

    Phil beamed.  “Yes.  Drunk Theo.”

    “I won’t get drunk,” he chuckled.

    “I’ve never seen you drunk,” I thought out loud.

    “He’s so mean sometimes,” Phil said dreamily.

    I was surprised by the way he was looking at Theo, mostly because Phil is usually the more reserved of the two.  Theo gestured for me to go inside and I’d just stumbled into the entrance when the front door was shut behind me.

    I gazed at it blankly, confused.

    What happened?  Had they shut it on accident?  Curious, I went to open it when I could see them through the window.  Theo had pushed Phil up against the wall and the way his head was ducked—well, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what they were doing.

    Well then.

    Heels.

    Time to take off the heels.

    My feet ached and, as I kicked them off in the entrance, I sighed in relief as my feet hit the fluffy carpeting.  Sweet relief.

    When the door opened again, I glanced back to find Theo with averted eyes, Phil slightly disheveled as he stumbled in after him.  “I’ll start the milkshakes,” Theo muttered, his eyes shifting to me.  I gave him a knowing smirk and he just ignored it, moving past me toward the kitchen.

    Phil, on the other hand, looked kind of flustered.

    Teasingly, I said, “When you say he’s mean sometimes . . . “

    He bit his lip, rolling it between his teeth, and I just giggled at his reaction.

    No matter how many years pass, the dynamic between these two never seems to change.

. . .

Halfway through a movie, milkshake in hand, Phil dozed off.  Theo took the milkshake from him, setting it on the table next to the couch, tossing his arm over him.

    “Remember when we watched The Notebook together?” I wondered.

    Theo shifted, turning to quirk a brow at me.

    “I had no idea what you were to each other then,” I reminisced.  Giving a small laugh, I said, “I’d thought you were jealous that I’d step in as his best friend.”

    “You are his best friend,” Theo said, resting his forehead on his knuckles.

    “True,” I said, taking a swig of shake.

    “I’m his husband,” he reminded me and I got the gist that he was gloating.

    “He might love me more though,” I told him, quirking a challenging brow.

    Something in Theo’s expression shifted.

    I just maintained eye contact, curious.  “What?”

    “Nothing,” he muttered, averting his eyes back to the television screen.  He drank more of his shake and that was the end of the conversation.

. . .

Late.

    It was late when I’d realized I’d passed out on the couch too.  There was a blanket tossed over me and Theo and Phil were gone.  Yawning, exhausted, I stumbled to my feet a bit unsteadily, and heard the sound of water from the kitchen.

    Theo, rinsing everything off, cleaning.

    I whistled from behind him and he turned, quirking a brow.

    “Do you need help?”

    “You could dry,” he said, immediately handing me a wet mug.  I took it, grabbing a dish towel, doing my due diligence.  “I hate dishes,” he grumbled, “but if I don’t do it now, he’ll do it in the morning and then I’ll feel bad about having him do it, you know?”

    I didn’t know.

    I’d lived alone my entire adulthood.

    “Totally,” I lied, accepting another mug as he handed it back to me.

    “And I don’t want him to do it,” he went on.

    “Makes sense,” I muttered, taking the glass he passed back.

    He went on cleaning and I went on drying and, tiredly, I felt relieved that he’d just handed me the last item, watching him scrub the sink now.  Good manners, this one.  Phil had trained him well, I suspected.  When he glanced back at me, noticing that I’d been watching him, he frowned.

    “Earlier you asked what I was thinking.”

    “Huh?”  Earlier?  I was kind of blurry on earlier if I was being honest.

    “I said ‘nothing’ but there was one thing.”

    He took a step forward and, stumbling backwards, my back bumped into the wall, eyes widening a bit as I took in his intense expression, leaning forward to rest his hand against the wall above my head.  My heart was hammering in my chest and everything told me to be on the defensive.  The way he was looking at me, the intensity of his gaze—even through my drunken haze, one thought was crystal clear in my mind:  Phillip Echevarria is my best friend.  I puffed my cheeks, ready to give him hell for trying to make a move on me—

    “What really happened between you two sophomore year?”

    Narrowed eyes, an accusatory glare.

    The stance wasn’t flirty at all and his expression wasn’t that of a man about to do something naughty.  “That ‘girls night’ you two had.  It never sat right with me, you know.  He was drunk and in your bed and you both said you didn’t sleep together but—”

    I giggled.  I couldn’t help myself.  Theo grimaced at me and I pressed my hand over my mouth, surprised by the relief that flooded through me.  Even drunk, Theodore Blackwell was still madly in love with his counterpart and I couldn’t help but feel somewhat relieved by his possessive tendencies.

    “What’s funny?” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

    Sulky, he looked almost like a little kid.  I shook my head, biting back another laugh.  “I’m sorry.  No, Theo, seriously, it was nothing like that.  We just kissed a little.”  He did feel me up back then but I wasn’t going to be the one to break that to Theo.

    Peeved, he rolled back on his heels.  “He told me about that.”

    “He didn’t seem sure about his sexuality and I thought, I don’t know—”

    “That you could win him over?” he grumbled, quirking an unamused brow.

    In what world could I steal Phil from Theodore Blackwell?  “No, nothing like that.  I never really thought about Phil that way.  We were drunk, heartbroken young girls—”

    “He’s male,” Theo muttered, narrowing his eyes at me.

    It made me grin.  “I mean, admittedly I’d happily marry Phillip.”

    “He’s already married,” he grumbled, flashing his black ring at me.

    “I meant if you weren’t in my way,” I shrugged, giving a cheeky smile.  He stared at me, seeming almost dazed for a moment and I quirked a brow, wondering what that look meant.

    “We both love him,” he said finally, giving me a knowing look.  “That’s why we couldn’t do this with anybody else, you know.  Those women, the other options—they looked at both of us with lust in their eyes.  Given the opportunity, they’d try to get between us.”

    I figured as much.

    Both men could be considered ideal partners.  Handsome, educated, and wealthy.

    They weren’t lacking anywhere that counted.

    But they belonged together and most women probably didn't understand that.

    “I’ve always wanted a baby, D.  Always,” he said, his eyes shifting to my stomach.  “Phil, too.  And more than that, we want a family.  We want to co-parent with a strong woman, a capable woman.  A woman who cares for both of us.”  Running my hand over my abdomen, kind of self-conscious about his hungry gaze, I noticed how his green eyes snapped back up to me, reading my expression.  “We both love him, D.  We’d both want what’s best for him and I think we both knows that’s us.”

    The sincerity of his words, the certainty—it made something in my stomach flutter.

    He’s right, of course.  I love Phil.  He’s been my best friend all of these years, my number one go-to for any gossip, anything wild going on in my life and, no matter my endeavor, he always met me with nothing but unwavering support.  I remember studying for the Bar Exam and falling into an anxiety attack.  The first person I called was him and he’d answered on the second ring at two in the morning and talked me through it.  Theo had been there too for that, offering to fly him to New York for a quick visit if I needed him.  Phil was already putting his shoes on, ready to run out the door.

    And I loved him for it.  And I loved Theo by default for loving Phil.

    “It couldn’t be anybody else,” he said, tone holding finality.  “You’re it for us, D.”

    I parted my lips to speak but didn’t trust my voice.

    Not right now.

    Not like this.

    Taking a step backwards, I just offered him a small smile of reassurance.  We’d talk more about this tomorrow.  When we were both sober, both in our right minds.  “Goodnight, T,” I mumbled.

    He smirked.  “T, huh?”

    “If I’m D then you’re T,” I told him, giving a small wave over my shoulder, stumbling toward the steps leading down to my bedroom.

    “Goodnight, D,” Theo chuckled after me.

    I smiled, letting out a relieved sigh as I scaled the stares.

    We both love him, D.

    He’s right.

    Of course he’s right.

    Earnest, dependable, and hardworking—how could you not love Phillip Echevarria?

    You’re it for us, D.

    Gnawing on my cheek, I stumbled over to the bed, falling back on it.  Soft, warm, comforting.  I closed my eyes, visualizing who I’d rather raise a child with.  I couldn't imagine anyone but them.  Tossing my arm over my eyes, I came to the realization that they were probably it for me, too.