Page 111 of Fake As Puck
My sister drops this bomb on us and digs. She really is a master at this. Liv and I make eye contact, but Charlie and Emma immediately start demanding things. It’s a great buffer.
The next few hours are a masterclass in domestic chaos management. Liv and I tag-team dinner prep, and somehow we fall into an easy rhythm without discussing anything.
She handles vegetables while I deal with the chicken. I set the table while she gets the kids’ sippy cups ready. When Emma has a meltdown about her carrots touching her potatoes, Liv distracts her with a song while I rearrange the plate.
It’s natural. Easy.
After dinner, we tackle bath time, which with two small children basically amounts to controlled chaos involving way too much water and definitely too many bubbles.
“Why is there more water on the floor than in the tub?” Liv asks, wringing out a soaked washcloth.
“Because Emma thinks splashing is a competitive sport,” I say, trying to wash Charlie’s hair while she does her best impression of a very slippery fish.
“Competitive splashing. That should be an Olympic event.”
“Emma would take the gold.”
“Hands down.”
By the time we get both kids dried off, dressed in pajamas, and settled in the living room for story time, I’m exhausted but happy.
Really happy.
This is what I want. This chaos, this teamwork, this feeling like I’m part of something bigger than myself.
I want it with her.
Liv reads to Emma while I help Charlie build one last elaborate structure with her Legos. She has a nice reading voice, animated but not over the top, and Emma’s completely captivated.
“You’re good with them,” she says quietly when we finally get both kids settled in their respective beds.
“I’m a natural,” I say, and I realize I mean it. “I plan to have a big family someday.”
“Do you?” she asks, surprised.
“Yeah. Three, maybe four kids. The whole chaos.”
“Sounds exhausting.”
“Nah, it’ll be perfect.”
She looks at me for a long moment, and there’s something in her expression I can’t quite read.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing. Just... I never pictured you as the family type.”
I’m taken aback by that. “What did you picture me as?”
“I don’t know. The eternal bachelor type. Hockey first, everything else second.”
“Hockey’s important to me. But it’s not everything.”
“No?”
“No. Family’s everything. The people you love, the people who love you back, the people you’d do anything for. That’s everything.”
“Even if it means less focus on your career?”
