Dub tossed me the ball and, in what I can only assume was an act of mercy toward the emotionally compromised, he let me serve first. I glanced around while he got into position and quickly found evidence supporting his story. The grill still gleamed. The cushions looked untouched. Even the grass had that suspiciously pristine quality of a place nobody had ever properly broken in.
I bounced the ball against the paddle to get my rhythm right. “So this is really your first time back here?”
Dub grabbed his paddle and shook his head. “I told you. Growth is embarrassing.”
“You own the property,” I said in disbelief.
“And yet somehow I still pay taxes on land I haven’t explored.”
“Remarkable.”
“I’m a visionary!”
“Right.”
I tossed the ball and served. Dub returned it gently, which I found disrespectful. We traded easy hits back and forth for a few seconds, neither fully committed yet.
“You look calmer,” he said.
“That’s because I’m concentrating.”
“You looked calmer before the game started.”
“I was conserving my rage.”
He laughed.
The ball clipped the edge of my paddle and sailed toward the house.
Dub clicked his tongue, chastising me. “Oof. Grief stole your hand-eye coordination.”
“You’re talking awfully spicy for a man who’s supposedly letting me win out of pity.”
“Kindness!”
I shook my head.
He sent the next shot wide enough to make me jog for it. The movement felt good. My chest didn’t feel nearly as tight as it had inside, though there was still that lingering little knot only time could deal with.
Dub served next. That was when I remembered he’d said he just got back in town.
“How was Tami’s?”
He paused just long enough for me to get the uncomfortable feeling I might not be the only dad fighting for emotional survival today.
He bounced the ball against his paddle once before serving. “You know how we tell our daughters they can come and talk to us about anything?”
I returned the shot. “Absolutely.”
The ball skimmed low over the net.
“Well…” he said, returning it, “sometimes I think that should be amended to only tell me things you want my opinion on and that won’t land me in prison.”
I missed the return entirely. “Oof.” I retrieved the ball and looked at him over my paddle. “What makes you say that?”
“Do you want the long or short version?”
“I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”
“Good,” he said. “Because apparently neither is my trauma.”
I served again. The rally started easy. Nothing competitive yet. Just the steady tick-tick-tick of the ball moving between us while he gathered his thoughts.
“I got to the ranch–it’s gorgeous, by the way. But she’s in way over her head.”
He returned my shot with irritating precision. “But she’s an adult, and I have to let her fail on her own, right?”
I sent the ball back with a knowing little chuckle. “Something like that.”
He pointed at me with the paddle. “Don’t use my own life lessons against me.”
“You brought me out here.”
“That’s fair.”
The ball clipped the edge of the table and bounced toward him. He scooped it up.
“Anyway, I knew something was up as soon as I arrived. She wasn’t her usual confident self. She seemed a little sad and refused to look me in the eye.”
That definitely didn’t sound like the Tami I knew.
“Did it have something to do with the ranch?” I asked.
“That’s what I thought.” He served. “Turns out it wasn’t that simple.”
I returned his serve.
“She met some guy back when we took that trip to Tomarang.”
Tick.
“Invited him to the ranch.”
Tick.
“Long story short…” He hit the ball harder this time. “Dude gets what he wants and flies right back to Tomarang.”
My return died against the net. Something inside me tightened. Not exactly judgment. Just that old protective feeling clawing its way up before I could stop it. I’d seen too many versions of that story already. Alessia trying to hold herself together while the father of her babies disappeared. Yasmine caught up in something she mistook for love. Chi Chi standing beside her daughter while another relationship left scars nobody could see right away. Same mess. Different faces. I was getting real tired of this story.
I picked up the ball. “You mean—”
Judging by the look on his face, I didn’t need to finish. He threw up both hands.
“Wham, bam, and all!”
“Oh.” The word came out quieter than I intended.
We started again. The ball moved slower now. Not because of the game. There was more to the story, and I had questions.
“I was ready to book a flight and hunt this guy down.”
I understood that instinct immediately and wanted to join him.
“But Tami got super upset, so I had to let that idea go.”
That surprised me.
He served. I returned it.
“And I’m glad I did, because once I got home and talked to Kalani, she gave me the woman’s perspective.”
The ball tapped back and forth between us.
“Can’t say it made me feel much better about the guy,” he admitted, “but at least now I understand where Tami’s coming from.”
I watched the ball spin off my paddle. Something in me loosened. Not relief exactly. Just recalibration. Tami’s story wasn’t about abandonment. It was just heartbreak. Heartbreak still sucks, but at least I wouldn’t need an alibi.
“Sophia’s constantly helping me understand these things,” I said.
Dub nodded immediately. “That woman’s perspective’ll humble you every time.”
“No kidding.”
The game kept moving while we talked. Turns out I wasn’t good enough at ping pong to overthink and play well at the same time, which honestly felt helpful.
“You know what sucks about having children?” he asked.
“Oh, I can think of at least 100 reasons.”
“Ha! No, but for real … They don’t stay little long enough!”
That one hit me deep. Especially with another little person at home who’d soon need to figure out school and all the chaos that came with it.
“They really don’t,” I said.
“Nobody warns you about that part.”
I snorted. “Yeah. That must have been in the fine print section.”
Dub shook his head. “And why did we decide having daughters was a good idea?”
I laughed. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”
He grinned. “Well, it should.”
That earned another laugh out of me. And honestly? I couldn’t completely disagree.
We kept the game going after that. Less therapy. More trash talk. Unfortunately, Dub won. He celebrated like a man defending a long and prestigious ping pong dynasty instead of somebody discovering his own backyard for the first time.
“Still undefeated over here,” he crowed proudly.
“That stat feels manipulated.”
“History remembers winners.”
“History also remembers fraud.”
He laughed. “Come back when your emotional state improves.”
I shook my head and laughed harder than I wanted to.
Desi was still married.
My feelings about it were still unstable.
Sophia was still waiting for me at home with whatever wisdom she’d gathered while I was busy punching furniture and losing recreational sports.
But for the first time all day…
My thoughts didn’t feel quite so loud.
