Page 272 of Wild Card 13

The stroller obstacle course resumed after Lo declared the incident “handled” and had a server quietly reset the cone Dottie had dragged six feet out of alignment.

Rafa won that too.

He approached the stroller with the same grave focus he had given the diaper table. He adjusted the handle height. Checked the wheels. Asked Reed’s oldest daughter to confirm the baby doll was secured properly. Then he moved through the course with such smooth, controlled precision that Cam crossed his arms and muttered, “That’s better edgework than our second power-play unit.”

Rafa reached the diaper bag station, lifted it without jostling the stroller, and finished with the kind of calm nod men gave after parallel parking in a snowstorm.

The yard went silent for one beat.

Then everyone applauded.

Rafa looked embarrassed, which made it funnier.

Bea was laughing and crying again. Alois had one hand on hershoulder now, his thumb moving once against the fabric of her dress, private comfort in public view.

Ezra clapped with genuine admiration. “That was impressive.”

Rafa lifted one shoulder. “São Paulo traffic.”

Marco looked betrayed. “That explains nothing and yet somehow everything.”

By the time my turn came, the obstacle course had become less a game and more a referendum on male competence. Bobby stood near the start line, arms crossed, wearing the expression of a man hired as quality control. Dottie sat beside him because apparently they had formed an alliance during the emergency.

“You’re going to hit the flowers,” Bobby said.

“I am wounded by your lack of faith.”

“I’ve seen you skate.”

Lucy stood near Freya at the edge of the course. Her glass rested against her chest, both hands wrapped around it. She was watching me.

There had been a time when her attention made me bigger. Louder. More reckless. At eighteen, I would have turned the stroller course into a whole production just to make her laugh. I would have taken the corner too fast, nearly crashed into a hydrangea, recovered dramatically, and bowed like a fool while she rolled her eyes and loved me anyway.

I wanted that laugh.

God, I wanted it.

I made the first turn clean. The second less clean, because Bobby had been right about the angle. Reed’s kids shouted advice. Marco shouted worse advice. Harry heckled. Zee tried to start a chant and got three people to join before Lo looked at him.

I clipped one cone with the back wheel.

Bobby groaned.

I glanced toward Lucy. She was smiling.

The sight of it nearly made me steer straight into Lo’s flower arrangement. I caught the stroller in time, corrected, and finished at a respectable speed while Bobby shook his head like he had expected better from professional athletics.

When I handed the stroller off, Dottie pressed against my leg.One of Oliver’s toddlers padded over and placed a sticky hand on the stroller wheel.

“Ask him,” Bobby told her.

The toddler looked up at me.

I crouched again. “You want to see the wheel?”

She nodded.

“Okay.” I shifted the stroller so it would not roll and pointed to the brake. “This part keeps it still. But we only touch if your dad says it’s okay.”