Unexpected Daddy

Jacob ducks around one of the other team’s players, members of our own team pushing them out of the way, giving him every chance to make the shot. He pulls his stick back, eyes locked, and fires the puck toward the net.

Other than the rush of my pounding blood in my ears, I can hear nothing, see nothing. Everything stops except for the trajectory of that puck.

The goalie’s glove comes up, and the puck sails just above it, landing against the threaded net, followed by the loud buzzer of the clock running out.

The entire arena erupts into cheers, every person in that room hitting their feet and pounding incessantly on the boards in excitement.

As Jacob is bombarded by the other players on the ice in victory, I steal a glance across the ice to the two people standing in the front row of benches. Ellis is jumping up and down, his eyes wide and his hands in the air, and Megan is still clapping, wearing the biggest grin I’ve ever seen on her pretty face. She reaches down and high-fives my son.

Our son.

This is what life is supposed to be about. Not about hiding from the things that we fear in hopes that we won’t make mist

akes, but about making mistakes and learning from them in hopes of living the fullest life we can in the amount of time we’ve got.

This is what really living feels like, and I love it, thanks to Megan and Ellis.

***

“Daddy, you did it!”

Ellis’s shouts are heard by every person in the front lobby as I come around the corner from the locker rooms. I chuckle, just as many others do, when I see him standing up on the chair by the concession stand, struggling to see over the people bustling in and out of the lobby.

“Technically, it was Jacob who did it,” I say with a grin, dropping my hockey bag onto the floor. “But you’re right, buddy, we won! Told you that you were my good luck charm.” The little boy jumps off the chair and races full-tilt at me. I scoop him up, hugging him tightly to me.

“We won! We won!” he chants repeatedly. “You’re my hero!”

I’m not sure there’s anything else my son could say that would make my throat constrict the way it is.

“You’re my hero, too.” Megan pushes the chair back under the table it came from and steps forward, stretching up onto her tiptoes to kiss me. “Congratulations, Number Forty-One.”

“It was a pretty good game, huh?” I say, pulling my hockey bag up onto my other shoulder and leading her out to the pickup truck with Ellis still muttering “Yes!” and “What a game!” to himself as we go.

“It was quite a dramatic win,” Meg says excitedly. “Quite a goal you got, too.”

I throw the bag into the truck bed, then pull the back door open to deposit Ellis into his seat, buckling him in securely before I close his door and climb into the driver’s seat. “I’m not going to lie, I think I got lucky on that one.”

“Hardly.” Megan slides into the passenger seat, buckling her seatbelt. “You played an amazing game, baby. I’m proud of you.”

I lean over and kiss her again, my chest swelling with pride at being able to call her my own. “Either way, I think we need to celebrate. Let’s get a bottle of that merlot stuff you like so much and go home. I’ve got a few ideas brewing.”

“I’ll bet you do,” she chuckles, her cheeks showing a hint of crimson at the suggestion. She reaches out and touches my hand, which stops me from turning the key in the ignition. “Celebrating sounds good, Craig, but no wine, okay?”

“Fine, we can—” The glint in her eyes makes me shut my mouth on the words. Silence spreads throughout the truck. Even Ellis is quiet, which hardly ever happens unless he’s sleeping. “Meg...”

Her mouth curves up at the corners. She merely nods, squeezing my hand in hers.

“Are you telling me...I mean, are you saying...” I can’t get the thought to become words on my tongue.

“That you’re going to be a daddy again?” She whispers it low, but not like it’s a secret. Like the phrase is laced with so much emotion she can barely speak of it. “Yeah, baby, that’s what I’m telling you.”

My eyes widen, my gaze dropping from her perfect mouth that formed the words to her lower abdomen, covered by her fleece jacket...where my son or daughter is growing inside her. “Meg...” I choke out. Then, I dive towards her, kissing her hard. “Oh God, Meg, just when I didn’t think you could make me any happier.”

“Daddy’s kissing Mommy...ew!”

Ellis’s outburst makes us both laugh, but it doesn’t stop me from kissing my wife once more, brushing my thumb along her cheek. “Daddy’s going to do a lot more than kiss Mommy,” I whisper to Megan. “He’s going to love her forever. Her and his little family.”

“Our little family,” she corrects me in a raspy voice.