Page 103 of The One I Want
I laugh as my other two girls come downstairs.
“So this is why you asked Hank and I to wear baby blue ties.”
Betsy and Magnolia each come downstairs in their own baby blue dresses. Magnolia’s has a puffed skirt, perfect for a little girl who is going to want to spin in circles all night.
Then there’s Betsy. If my kids weren’t around, we wouldn’t be going to a dance. I’d be ripping this dress off her and promising to buy her a new one. It’s tight in all the right places and covered in the others, making it the perfect balance of sexy and modest.
“Yes, it is,” she says, coming over and giving me a quick kiss. “I didn’t know how you’d feel about color coordination?”
She tries to step away, but I bring her back in. “Did you forget about the matching Christmas pajamas? I’m all about coordination.”
“Good to know,” she says. “That will make our family's Halloween costumes so much easier.”
* * *
“One, two, three!”
We all smile for the camera, which is being operated by one of the parents, as we enter the heavily decorated gymnasium. I almost didn’t recognize it, even though I spent many days here in my childhood.
“This is so cool!” Hank says, looking around with wide eyes. “Oh! There are my friends. Can I go?”
“Sure, buddy. Just don’t leave the gym without telling me.”
He nods and runs to a group of boys sitting at a table under one of the baskets, phones already out playing some game.
Emerson sees her friends and takes off. Luckily, Magnolia still thinks we’re cool.
“Daddy? Can I go dance with my friends?”
Maybe not.
“Of course, sweetie. Just save me a dance for later.”
She doesn’t answer, just runs off to have the time of her life.
“Don’t worry,” Betsy says as she wraps her arms around mine. “I’ll keep you company.”
“Hey, Coach! Congratulations!”
“Thank you,” I say with a nod.
“Who was that?” Betsy asks.
“No clue.”
I was officially named Coach Lockwood’s replacement at last week’s school board meeting. The response has been great, if a little overwhelming. I can’t go anywhere without someone telling me congratulations or giving me their two cents on how I should run the offense.
“I’m still not used to people calling you Coach,” Betsy says.
“Same,” I say. “Sometimes I forget to respond.”
“Well, you better get used to it.” She pulls on my shirt, signaling for me to lean down. “If you want, I can start calling you that when I scream your name.”
I swallow nothing as I do my best to not pop a hardon at the Spring Fling.
“Probably not a good idea. I don’t want to be thinking of that when I have to address the football boosters.”
“Fair,” she says. “But just say the word and it’s done.”
