Page 46 of Keeping it Casual
Luckily the kids thunder down the stairs then, providing me with a welcome distraction from sisterly scrutiny. Lola’s carrying a soccer ball, and Max is wearing a deep frown that reminds me of my father.
“Uncle Dustin, do you know where Lachie’s other walkie-talkie is?” Max asks me.
“No, I haven’t seen it.” I flick a glance at Lachie. “Have you lost one of your walkie-talkies?”
Steph gave a very expensive walkie-talkie set to Lachie when he turned eleven. It had been his prized possession for a few years.
“It’ll be in my room somewhere,” Lachie says.
I go for a time-honored piece of parental advice. “You wouldn’t lose stuff if you kept your room tidy.”
Lachie just rolls his eyes.
“We’re going to play soccer outside,” Lola announces.
“Okay,” Steph says.
Max and Lola head out the door, but Lachie hangs back. “Hey, Dad, can I go to Sheldon’s house tonight for a sleepover?”
I frown. “Who’s Sheldon?”
“A guy from my art class. He just messaged me to ask.”
I don’t think I’ve heard him mention Sheldon. It supports what I was saying to Steph, how it’s difficult to know what’s going on with him. All his friends I’ve met so far seem nice enough though. Definitely an improvement on the crowd he was hanging around with in Auckland.
Hmmm. Jeremy doesn’t have Lucy this weekend. Steph and the kids are going home this afternoon, and if Lachie’s away, Jeremy could come over, and we could have a complete night together, with no interruptions. As long as Jeremy leaves by the time Lachie gets back, it will be all good. It’s definitely a better alternative to a late-night encounter by the fence, no matter how hot that was.
Lachie’s waiting expectantly for me to answer.
“Okay, you can go.”
And I can’t stop my body from tingling at the idea of a whole night with Jeremy.
Chapter 12
Jeremy
Lucy has a soccer match late on Saturday afternoon. I’m not sure if it’s because it’s her actual birthday today and turning ten means she’s tapped into some double-digit superpower, but her soccer skills are even more enhanced than normal. She’s running over the other girls in the competing team like she’s in a tank and they’re on bicycles.
Emily and I stand together on the sidelines, in a combined state of shock at the whirlwind soccer tornado that somehow, we, two relatively un-competitive people, managed to produce.
“Oh shit,” Em says after Lucy kicks the ball and it smacks one of the opposing players in the mouth.
“Fuck, is that a tooth?” I ask as the girl spits out something white among a mouthful of blood.
“I’m sure it was already loose,” Em replies unconvincingly. We exchange horrified glances.
“People are going to think I trained her to inflict injuries on the kids of the town just to drum up business for myself,” I say anxiously.
Thankfully, the final whistle blows a few minutes later, sparing the opposition any more pain.
“Mum, Dad, did you see my goals?” Lucy runs over to us. Em and I crouch at the same time, and she runs into both of our arms, so we end up having a three-person hug.
My throat tightens as I inhale the familiar scents: mud, grass, and Em’s favorite perfume.
These are the moments I miss so much. Being a proper family.
“How could we have missed them? You scored seven,” I say as I release her.
