Chapter 3
Locke
“ God dammit.”
Decker drops the screwdriver then plants his hands on his hips.
Clearly frustrated, he glares at the half-assembled child-size vanity. His jaw ticks as he mutters to himself, shaking his head.
“I’ve got it,” I insist, snagging the tool off the ground and gently peeling the instruction manual from his grip.
He offers me an exasperated side-eye and a weak attempt at hanging on to the directions, but eventually releases his crushing hold on the paper.
“I should be on step twelve, but there’s no anchor for the mirror like it shows in the picture,” he explains.
“I got it,” I assure him again, scanning the page and heading back to the piles of plastic and cardboard we’ve discarded during Operation Christmas Eve Assembly.
It takes me less than a minute to locate the missing piece.
“I’ll finish this if you want to start breaking down boxes?” I suggest. At least that’ll give him an outlet for all his Big Decker Energy.
He grumbles a half-hearted assent.
I turn back to Dylan’s vanity. A little thrill rushes through me as I envision her face tomorrow.
She’s going to flip when she sees this under the Christmas tree, just like Delilah’s going to go wild about her Power Wheels G-Wagon.
Archie is getting an electric guitar. Brendan is getting clothes and a few small items, because he’s a baby, and Joey insists that’s all he needs.
Everything on the big kids’ Christmas lists has been purchased, assembled, and wrapped.
I can’t fucking wait for tomorrow.
I love this kind of thing. I live for moments like this. Any time there’s an opportunity to do something awesome for my kids or with my kids, I’m there.
Shopping for gifts and buying them little treats at the drug store. Volunteering at their class parties. Driving them to and from school. Signing them up for activities and coaching Archie’s soccer team.
It’s the greatest fucking joy of my life to be their Papa Bear.
Admittedly, I go overboard from time to time. Joey and I both do. We tend to indulge the kids in experiences we either missed out on or found lackluster from our own childhood.
Most of the time, the other guys just let us do our thing.
But I still haven’t lived down folding a twenty dollar bill into an origami swan when Archer lost his first tooth. I set an unrealistic precedent, according to Decker. I’m already practicing my origami hearts for when the twins start losing teeth.
“What now?” Decker asks in a rare moment of deference as he stuffs a final handful of plastic into a garbage bag.
He’s the coach. Kyl’s our timekeeper. Kendrick, ever the protector.
I’m proud to be the primary parent in moments like this and get to call the shots.
“If you want to take some of the gifts upstairs, I’ll finish this, then we can arrange it all under the tree.”
Joey has a specific vision for how she wants the presents displayed under the tree. Making that vision a reality is an honor and privilege.
“Just check and make sure Archie isn’t still up reading,” I call after Decker as he climbs the stairs. He has a renewed spring in his step—no doubt glad to be done with assembly for now. Come tomorrow, I’m sure we’ll be putting together a million more gadgets and toys.
I can’t fucking wait.