Love, Marriage, and a Baby Carriage

by C. S. Poe

  Love, Marriage, and a Baby Carriage

  By C.S. Poe

  Theodore Reinhart is a young man looking for love. In San Diego. At a convention. For penguin shifters. WaddleCon is the go-to event of the year when looking for your life partner, but Theodore isn’t comfortable with the game they’ve turned dating into, nor does the convention provide for the gay community. A mistake in speed dating table assignments puts Theodore in front of Wesley O’Neill, a handsome and confident model who lets it slip that he’s definitely noticed the spark of attraction between them.

  A perfect date ends prematurely when Theodore finds an abandoned egg in a bathroom trash can. Unable to leave it behind, Theodore and Wesley play a mad game of cat and mouse across the resort trying to keep it safe, all while growing closer to one another. Wesley may be the forever partner Theodore came looking for, but their relationship won’t work if they don’t make room for a little addition to the family.

  I WAS the hottest of hot messes.

  The reflection looking back at me in the hotel room’s bathroom mirror was terrible. My auburn hair had the posttravel appearance: random locks sticking up on end and a headrest indent from sleeping on the plane. Ah yes, very classy. I combed it forward a bit more and frowned. Product would fix it, but that was in my suitcase, and my suitcase apparently forgot to make the connecting flight out of Atlanta. The airline assured me they were “looking into the matter.”

  I stared at myself harder.

  And this suit! Jesus Christ, how had I ever let the salesman talk me into this shit?

  What had he called it? Power clashing, or something.

  “It’s not a business event,” I had told him.

  “What sort of convention is it?”

  “Er—it’s, uh—for single people to… mingle,” I had awkwardly offered.

  “Oh honey! And it’s in San Diego, you said? So we’ll throw some bright, beachy colors into this. Don’t worry,” he had told me over and over. “You’ll look so fierce. Your phone won’t have enough memory for all of the numbers you’re going to come away with.”

  Uh-huh.

  And at the ungodly hour of six in the morning, before leaving my New York apartment for the West Coast, I had decided to make a good impression as soon as I arrived at WaddleCon and wear the suit on the plane instead of changing after.

  I sighed and plucked absently at the jacket. Brown, what was this—tweed? A plaid tie. Blue striped shirt. And these pants… I think the salesman had called them salmon.

  I called it the worst decision I’d made since signing up for this stupid event.

  “So I have my bad hair,” I said to the mirror while ticking off the points on my fingers. “And my even worse suit.”

  And I was attending a singles’ convention for special people like me to find their forever penguin partner. But after I paid the attendance fee, got a hotel room, and booked my flight, I found out it was specifically for guys and gals.

  Not that these folks hadn’t read the story And Tango Makes Three, but they weren’t really using their budget to cater to the few gay penguins—er, people—in the community.

  I sighed dramatically.

  “My name’s Theodore Reinhart, I look like a rainbow puked on me, and I’m a gay penguin—Magell—attending a meet and greet for straight folks.”

  Yep. Hot mess. No doubt about that.

  Whatever. I wasn’t going to mope about for the weekend. I was in sunny California during mid-October. The weather was beautiful and the resort was lovely. I could get drunk at the bar, go swimming, eat some nice meals, and get some needed R & R before returning to the hustle of life in the Big Apple.

  “Good plan,” I told myself. “Better plan: ditch the coat.” I took it off, only to realize it tied the ensemble together. Without the jacket adding to the plaid and stripes to show I’d purposefully mismatched, I just looked like I’d gotten dressed while blindfolded.

  “Okay, coat stays on.” I pulled it back up, buttoning, unbuttoning, and buttoning the front again before letting out an aggravated sound and stomping out of the bathroom.

  A SUPER perky girl had supplied me with a lanyard and my name tag once I had found my way around the outdoor resort to the main events building. I was told the inside pocket of the name tag had a schedule of events, with not-to-miss attractions such as Sexy Swimming (sounded unsanitary), Buy a Bachelor Brunch (I’d play if it was a boozy brunch), and Late-Night Bingo (I didn’t want to know what the prizes were).

  “There are also drink tickets inside,” she said.

  I perked up. “Yeah? Which way is the bar?”

  “There’s one just out this door and to the left. Make sure you come back for—”

  “Thank you,” I said graciously before making a quick exit.

  When I found the bar, I told the man at the counter I desperately needed a margarita. He didn’t know what kind of people were really at this weekend event—being those folk who could shift to the form of Magellanic penguins—but he would have at least surmised it was a lot of horny singles. And maybe he could see how uncomfortable I was, whether or not he thought it was due more from the convention or my suit, but he made me two drinks.

  Two very strong drinks.

  By the second, my coat was off and I was feeling pretty good about my salmon pants.

  “Five minutes until speed dating!”

  I turned in my seat to see a bubbly blond guy making the announcement to everyone at the bar.

  “Find the love of your life before the bell rings! We’re in room A-5!”

  A number of bar patrons stood from their tables, taking the conversations with them as they made their way out.

  The bartender flashed me a smile when I turned my back. “Not looking for the love of your life?” he teased.

  I finished the last of my margarita and shrugged. Actually, I was. Like everyone else at WaddleCon, I was the right age and it was hardwired into me. Find that special someone and be together forever, raise a kid or two….

  But I couldn’t tell this guy that.

  “I’m holding out for the all-guy speed dating,” I supplied.

  He looked confused. “I don’t think this is that kind of convention.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it. Can I have another drink?”

  He chuckled. “Sure.” He passed over a glass once he finished. “Maybe you can go and ask which of the ladies have a hot brother.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “Even if I were at an event catering to my tastes, I don’t think I have the guts to do speed dating.”

  “Why not? I’ve supplied you with the liquid courage,” he said, nodding at the drink.

  “We need one more for speed dating!”

  I turned to see the blond guy again. And that eye contact was what changed everything.

  He grinned excitedly, ran over, and grabbed my arm. “Come on! We’ve got one last seat open.”

  “W-What? No, no thanks, I don’t—”

  “Last year the speed dating resulted in four success stories!” he said happily while dragging my tipsy ass from the seat. “Everyone loves it.”

  “I don’t!” I managed, but he didn’t hear me over the chair scraping on the floor and the bartender laughing. I barely had time to grab my drink and coat before following him out.

  “THEODORE? THAT’S an old name. You don’t hear it very often.”

  “No, I guess—”

  “You look like a Teddy!” my date exclaimed. She was what, Number Six? Seven?

  I looked at her name tag. Amanda. Right.

  “Teddy?” I repeated. “No—”

  “Because you have big brown eyes like a teddy bear,” she laughed.

  “Er….” />
  “You gelly?”

  Was I in hell? “W-What?” I asked.

  “Gelly. Get it? You jelly? But since we’re Magells, it’s gelly with a g!” Amanda said happily.

  Yup, after this, I was checking out of the resort and flying home.

  The bell rang then, and I got up so fast I knocked the chair over. “Shit. I’m sorry,” I said, hastily picking it up. “Okay. Thanks, bye.” I grabbed my glass, which was long since empty, and rushed to the next table.

  Three more dates, then I could run for the hills.

  This just wasn’t my idea of meeting someone special. They’d turned it into a game, made it a yearly must-attend event, and convinced all of the young people like me that we’d die sad and alone if we didn’t go. Except when I do make the damn pilgrimage, I find out there’s nothing here for me.

  Whatever happened to quiet, intimate dinners? Or spending time down at the beach behind the resort? Getting to really know one person, instead of superficially knowing a hundred?

  Never mind the fact there was nothing gay-friendly here.

  I liked women fine as people…. I don’t know. They made me nervous.

  But an entirely different sort of nervous than what I was feeling now, because at the next table I had been assigned to was not another lady looking to make me her forever partner.

  It was a guy.

  He was tall even while seated, with expensively styled sandy-brown hair and, when he smiled, dimples.

  Motherfucking dimples.

  So like the suave person I was, I said, “Uh….”

  “I think they made a mistake,” he said with a chuckle.

  Oh, right. Because he was not here to meet a gay Magell.

  “I guess,” I said, trying to return the smile and not lead on that my heart had just sunk like a rock to the pit of my stomach.

  He motioned to the empty seat. “Don’t worry. Sit down. What’s your name?”

  “Name… oh. Oh! Theodore,” I supplied, collapsing into the seat. “Theodore Reinhart.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, Theodore. Wesley O’Neill,” he said, reaching across the table to shake my hand. “Wes is fine.”

  “Wes,” I echoed, the name tingling on my lips.

  He had on a pair of those old retro glasses I always associated with guys at NASA. Wesley wore gray slacks and a black tie, and had the sleeves of his shirt rolled back. A gray jacket was draped over the back of his chair. Here was a man who could wear a suit.

  “I like your tie,” he said with a lopsided smile.

  “You do?” I looked down, then realized I had left my jacket at the first table when I had been manhandled into participating. “Oh shit! Hold on!” I jumped up and ran across the room to fetch the damn tweed, because I didn’t want him to believe I actually woke up thinking plaid and stripes was a good call.

  I got back to Wesley while pulling my arms through the coat, but one sleeve somehow got turned inside out and I ended up stuck trying to put it on. When I heard a nearby table laughing, I gave up and yanked it back off before sitting again. I gripped the material tight, trying to not melt out of the chair and onto the floor from the heat of my embarrassment.

  “It’s called power clashing,” I mumbled, not daring to look up. “But without the coat, I just look stupid.”

  “Hardly. I think you look rather adorable.”

  I quickly looked up to confirm, yes, Wesley was definitely addressing me.

  His smile broadened. “What do you do for a living, Theodore?”

  “I’m a tour guide,” I answered. When Wesley continued to look expectant, I shook my head. “Sorry. Shit, I’m so bad at this. At the MET in New York. I give private tours.”

  “That’s lovely,” Wesley said, leaning forward. “I’ve always wanted to go. I hear the Egyptian exhibit is very impressive.”

  I smiled and straightened a bit in my chair. “It’s my favorite.” I let go of the death grip I had on my jacket. “Where are you from?”

  “Oh, around here. I’m local,” he supplied.

  “Are you staying at the resort?”

  “Sure. Can’t miss a single thrilling moment,” Wesley said with a smile.

  It was not sincere.

  Which, oddly, excited me. Maybe—I allowed myself to think it—he was like me?

  At least perhaps he was someone who wasn’t terribly thrilled with how Magells met in this day and age?

  “Er, what do you do for a living, Wes?”

  “I’m a model.”

  Figures.

  “T-That explains it,” I heard myself say.

  He arched a perfect brow. “Explains what?”

  “You’re just… very handsome,” I replied while waving my hands. “The suit. And… you know.”

  “Oh.” Wesley looked almost bashful. “Thank you.”

  He wasn’t just handsome. Wesley was gorgeous. I couldn’t stop staring. Something about his face was comforting too. As if I’d always be able to pick it out from a sea of people.

  That was a weird thought.

  “Is this your first WaddleCon?” Wesley asked.

  “Yeah. First and last, I think.”

  He nodded, picked up his drink, and sipped it briefly. “I hear you. Not really my style.”

  “Among other things,” I agreed.

  Call me crazy, but I think he understood where I was going with that statement.

  “Among other things,” he echoed.

  I perked up.

  The bell rang.

  No! No, no, no. I couldn’t walk away yet! This was stupid! I didn’t think it was just me projecting my own feelings of interest and attraction either. The look on Wesley’s face told me there were similar thoughts in his head, and that was exciting as hell.

  “It was nice meeting you, Theodore.”

  I looked at the lady making her way over to his table and stood. “R-Right. You too. Meeting you, I mean.”

  I gave him one last smile before stepping back, bumping into someone, and apologizing. I glanced over my shoulder as I went to the next table.

  Wesley was watching me.

  The remaining dates were entirely forgettable. I think I grunted and nodded at the right moments, but I couldn’t care enough to pretend I was interested. Not after meeting Wesley. What was it about that little—well, date for lack of a better term—that made me feel so hopeful and confused? I was acting as if I’d never seen a hot guy before.

  I lived in New York City. There wasn’t a shortage of attractive men.

  But it was different with Wesley. I mean, yeah, I was attracted to him. No question there. It wasn’t blind lust, though. It felt deeper—which, considering I’d chatted with him for only a few moments, was frightening. You can’t just fall in love with someone quicker than a snap of the fingers, can you?

  Maybe not humans.

  I sometimes had to remind myself that I’m a little different.

  My mother had tried to explain it when I was younger, but hearing how she got together with my father had creeped teenage-Theodore out.

  “Mom! No, this is gross!”

  “Oh, I’m not telling you details, Theodore!” she had chastised. “All I’m saying is, for us, you feel it in your gut.”

  “I feel like vomiting.”

  “Shush. Remember this, because one day you’ll meet a wonderful girl and this feeling comes on so suddenly, it can be scary. But you’ll know the moment you see their face. It’s something that’ll just feel right.”

  Sorry, Mom. I met a guy. But your warning still applies.

  I got ushered out of the room with the gaggle of other folks before I had a chance to go back to Wesley’s table. It felt too good to be true, but I wanted to take a chance on what I was feeling and see if he would get dinner with me.

  Instead, I got cornered by Number Seven. No, Amanda.

  Oh God, someone save me.

  “You were my favorite date, Teddy.”

  I swallowed and tugged anxiously at my tie. “Thanks.”
/>   “What do you think of the names Victoria and Michael?”

  “For what?” I asked.

  “For kids!”

  My eyes widened. “Whose kids?”

  Amanda laughed happily. “You’re so funny. Want to chat about other names over dinner?”

  I took a step back instinctively and pressed into a comfortable, warm weight. I had barely turned to apologize when Wesley’s hand landed on my shoulder and he tugged me closer.

  “Sorry,” he said with a kind smile. “Theodore and I are actually having dinner tonight.”

  “We are?” I squeaked at the same time Amanda asked, “You are?” in a bewildered tone.

  Wesley nodded and continued to smile, bidding Amanda a good day.

  She hesitated a bit longer but got the point and awkwardly left our side.

  “My apologies,” Wesley said as he dropped his hand. “I didn’t mean to butt in.”

  “No, no,” I said, looking up. “I’m grateful. You have no idea.”

  He smiled again, but it was different from the one he’d shown Amanda, from the one he seemed to show the world. The smile he gave me was sweet and unguarded and a little shy.

  “I like your dimples,” I blurted out.

  Wesley laughed. “Uhm, thanks.”

  “I’m so sorry. I wish I was still tipsy and could blame the stupid things falling out of my mouth on booze. Y-You’re just—really hot,” I said, feeling my face heat up.

  “So are you.”

  Come again, say what now?

  Wesley reached out and patted down a stray hair on my head. “I really would like to have dinner with you. I admit I was sort of jealous when I saw her cornering you….”

  “Six.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Tonight,” I said with growing confidence. “Six. How about the seafood restaurant in the building across the driveway?”

  “MY SISTER,” Wesley explained while we shared dinner that night. “She convinced me to come here.”

  We were seated at a small table near a window overlooking the beach at sunset. A candle flickered and reflected off our glasses, and the lighting was subdued and romantic. Now this… this was my idea of a date. Great view, atmosphere, food, one extremely amazing guy who was interested in me….