She scratches her arm and the back of her neck, another bad sign. Violet gets stress hives, and the last thing I want is my wife covered in itchy, angry red welts. “It’s not the party planning I’m worried about.”
I come around the island and run my hands down her arms, but she brushes me off, stalks over to the fridge, and yanks open the freezer door. “Baby, come on. What are you worried about?”
Despite her issues with dairy, she pulls out a tub of ice cream. “What am I worried about?”
“Okay, this is the third time you’ve repeated my words back to me like I’m an idiot. Can you just tell me what the problem is so I can fix it?”
Violet throws her hands in the air. “I’m the problem!”
I put on my what are you talking about face, because I have a feeling I know exactly what the issue is and that maybe Miller was right. “What’d you mean?”
She yanks open the drawer and pulls out a spoon and waves it around in a slightly manic way. “Uh, do you remember what happened the last time you threw a party here? Because I sure do. Sort of. Thanks to the videos Charlene took, I have actual evidence of how ridiculously out of hand things got.”
“Baby, you didn’t know the watermelon was spiked.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that I sang ‘I Like Big Dicks’ at the top of my lungs or that I tried to twerk.”
It was probably one of the funniest things I’ve seen her attempt. Violet is incredibly smart and flexible thanks to all the yoga she does with my sister, but she is not very coordinated outside of the bedroom. Not that I’d ever tell her that. “You were adorable.”
“I was an asshole.” She peels the cover off the ice cream. “Look.” She motions to the tub as she digs her spoon in. “You’re forcing me to seek solace in ice cream just by talking about this.” She shoves the entire huge spoonful into her mouth, possibly to make a point.
I run a soothing hand down her arm. “I don’t want to stress you out. I can talk to Lance or Randy, and see if they wouldn’t mind hosting instead.”
Violet makes a cringy face and rushes to the sink. She spits out the mouthful of ice cream and turns the water on, rubbing her temples. “Dammit, I have brain freeze from that.” She drops the spoon into the sink and turns around with a sigh. “You can’t have one of the other guys host.”
“Sure I can. Lance won’t have a problem with it.”
“Yeah, but you’re the team captain. Obviously, you need to be the host. I just don’t want to do something embarrassing.”
“Nothing you do embarrasses me, Violet.” And I mean that truthfully. I love all of Violet’s quirks.
“Everything I do embarrasses me, though.” She blows out a long breath. “Can we confiscate everyone’s phone as soon as they enter the premises? Like, can you for sure, for sure, guarantee that no one is going to record me doing anything dumb and post it on YouTube five years from now in retaliation for something you said that they didn’t like?”
“YouTube probably won’t even be a thing in five years.”
Violet gives me the look. It’s the one that tells me I’m treading on thin ice and the boobs may be off limits if I keep it up. I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her against me. “Listen, baby, these are my teammates. They know better than to take drunken videos of my wife and post them anywhere unless they want to eat their teeth. You have nothing to worry about. I promise.”
Violet runs her hands over my chest, so, of course, I flex my pecs for her. She tips her chin up, still frowning a little, but I can see the moment she caves. “Fine. But no bunnies. You make sure those newbies know they can’t just disappear behind the pool house to get a damn blowie.”
I suppress a smirk. “It’s not the newbies I’d be worried about there.”
Violet purses her lips and wrinkles her nose. “I have no control over Randy and Lily. And Lily isn’t a bunny, and they usually do that in bathrooms. It was only that one time behind the pool house.”
“That you know of.”
“Do you know something I don’t?”
“No. I’m just saying with Randy and Lily, it’s pretty likely it’s happened more than once considering they disappear every five minutes to get each other off. Okay, I need to stop talking about this. Lily’s like family and it grosses me right the hell out. I’ll make sure the guys know that this is a bunny-free zone, but some of them might bring dates.”
“Just make sure they’re non-bunny dates.”
“I’ll do my best.” I nuzzle into her neck. Now that my wife is on board with the plan, I need to do something to shift her focus. “Wanna get out the Fruit Roll-Ups and play dress up?”
Violet pushes back, eyes bright with excitement. If I know how to do anything other than shoot a puck, it’s how to distract my wife. “Really?”
“As long as you have the mixed berry ones, I’ll let you do whatever you want.”
Violet jumps up and down, clapping excitedly. “Oh my God! Yes! I have those.” She cups me through my pants and bends down until her face is at crotch level. “We’re going to have so much fun.”
Violet
“We are not making Jell-O shooters for this party.” Since I’m not pregnant I can tie one on, but I’d like to attempt to keep it together for this party and Jell-O shooters make that difficult. I attempt to prevent Charlene from dumping six boxes of Jell-O powder into the grocery cart, but she starts girl slapping me in the middle of the aisle, which draws attention, so I’m forced to back off.
“Look, Vi, I know you’re worried it’s going to be like last time, but Jell-O shooters are light on the booze. I promise you’ll be fine.”
“But they’re so delicious, and once I start eating them, I really can’t stop, and the next thing you know, I’ll have polished off a whole tray on my own and the nightmare will begin.”
“I won’t let you eat a whole tray.” Charlene throws a tub of Cool Whip in. “Oh, and I can make flash cards with all the players, their number, and their name for you. We can go over them while we make shooters.”
“Oh my God! Why didn’t I think of that? There are just so many names to remember, and they always know who the hell I am, but I can only remember last names and their jersey number. I always blank out on first names. It’s one thing when it’s a few of the guys, but this is the whole team. I know I’m going to screw someone’s name up. Remember when I mispronounced Kuntz?”
“Anyone could’ve made that mistake. Look at my last name? No one ever remembers the H is silent in Hoar.” Charlene gives my shoulder a reassuring pat. “You’re a lot better with people than you think you are.”
“I’m really not,” I mutter. “Can we stop in the ice cream aisle?”
“Only if we’re picking up non-dairy frozen treats. You’re not eating a pint of Ben and Jerry’s four hours before people show up. You’ll bloat like a puffer fish and then you’ll refuse to go swimming.”
I sigh despondently. “I’ll get sherbet or gelato.”
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