Page 29 of Scoring Chance

“Lulu, what’s wrong?” I ask.

“Uncle Des doesn’t want to sit with me.”

“He does. He’ll be right back,” I tell her. Little kids are detonated bombs in the evening. If you don’t get them to bed on time, they will explode, as my daughter is demonstrating.

“I’ll be right there, Lu.” Des checks out the picture. “Lena, you were blinking. Davy, you were looking way off camera. Dean…I still don’t know what you were doing. We have to do this again,” Des says. “Okay, the ten second countdown starts…now.”

Des races to the couch and swoops Lulu into his arms, which only partially quells her crying. Lena and I race to switch sides.

“Dean, you’re making a stupid face.” Davy leans over Des to mock his brother, who’s winking and pointing at the camera.

“Your face is stupid all the time,” Dean shoots back. He throws a pillow at Davy just as the flash goes off.

“Dammit,” Des mutters. He plops Lulu off his lap and races back to the mantle, immediately sending her into a sobbing fit. I take Des’s spot on the couch and hug her tight.

“We can sit together,” I coo.

“I want to sit with Uncle Des!” Tears stream down her face. The bright side of a tantrum is that Lulu will probably go to sleep very easily. But first, we must get through this picture.

“Des, can’t we use one of the previous ones?” I ask.

“They weren’t right. We can get a great shot.”

“Take three!” Des zooms back to the couch. He puts Lulu on his lap. I move to the couch arm. All quick, barely coordinated chaos. “Eight seconds! Lulu, it’s okay. I’m here.”

But the Lulu bomb has already gone off. Best any of us can do is take cover. Des rocks her on his lap, but she continues to cry. Davy throws the pillow back at Dean.

“Hey! Stop!” Des says, trying out his stern dad voice. It makes me sit up straight. Pretty good for a newbie. Six out of ten.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t see Dean giving him rabbit ears behind his head as he reprimanded Davy. I try to swat Dean’s hand away, but I’m too late. The flash goes off.

Des looks down at a crying Lulu, and a quieted, shamed Davy. He sighs, totally defeated. “Let’s call it a night.”

I grin. “Welcome to parenthood.”

Fifteen minutes later, Lulu is calm, the boys’ détente is back up, and I’m putting the finishing touches on reheating leftovers. The kids haphazardly set the table for dinner.

Des emerges from my room in an old South Rock Hockey tee and jeans that are about an inch too short on him. He’s barefoot, and his hair is sticking up in a very un-Des-like way.

He catches me staring, his full lips curving into a lazy grin. “What?”

“You look normal.”

“I think I got Lulu snot on my slacks. It’s probably smart not to wear designer labels around kids.”

I nod, heartily agreeing. I like Des in a T-shirt and jeans over a fancy suit any day of the week. He immediately looks more relaxed, more like the Des I know.

Lena scrolls through the photos and snorts. “You guys need a couple pic, too. It’s gonna look weird if there’re no photos of just the two of you.”

Des looks at me. “I guess she’s right.”

I nod, heart skipping for no good reason. “Alright.”

“Let’s get our rings back on, just in case they’re in frame.” To my surprise, Des pulls his from his pocket. Does he carry it around everywhere with him? Or is he just prepared in case we need to put on a show?

Mine is also in my pocket, though not for preparedness. I slide it onto my finger, sending another wave of conflicting feelings through me.

We stand in front of the fireplace shoulder-to-shoulder as Lena holds the phone. “Closer,” she says.