Page 17 of Scoring Chance

I gesture at the kids. “Trying to keep the circus in order.”

“Hey guys!” Russ waves to them, then turns his gaze back to me. “I see you haven’t signed up yet to bring in a snack option for back to school night.” His words are polite, and his smile is big, but he’s also blocking my path to the driver’s seat. “It’s in a week.”

“Oh. It must’ve slipped my mind.” Typically, I’m good at keeping a mental to-do list running, but PTA requests tend to fall off.

“When you get home, could you fill it out? It’ll only take a minute. There are still a few options for what to bring. Cookies or brownies are always welcome, even if they are, y’know”—he steels himself for a moment—“store bought.”

“Right.” Derek told me Russ makes pizza from scratch—crust, sauce, and shredding his own cheese. Russ would shudder if he saw some of the store-bought meals I threw together for my kids. None of my kids are going to bed hungry, which is the most important thing. “I’ve just had a lot going on. I lost my job so I’ve been focused on that.”

His face immediately shifts. Russ may be uptight, but he’s not callous. “Tanner, I am so sorry. Don’t worry about back to school night. I have it covered. I can whip up a batch of brownies. If I hear of any openings at my company, I’ll keep my ear to the ground.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“And if you need help with anything else, let me or Cal know.”

“Of course. Thanks.” I wonder if I keep thanking him, will I eventually get to go into my car?

Russ puts a hand on my shoulder, gives me a solemn head nod. “How are things going besides that? If you ever need to talk about…it’s only been two years. It’s still fresh.”

I gently move his hand off me. Talking about the sadness around missing my late wife isn’t appropriate pickup line conversation. “Thanks, Russ,” I say definitively.

His gaze drifts to my hand. I realize, too late, that I’m still wearing the wedding ring. I forgot to take it off before I left the house.

Crap.

“Wait. What is this?” Russ catches my hand. “Did you…get married?”

“Married?” Lulu gasps from the car.

I shut the car door.

“What? No, this is…nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.” Russ takes my hand and gets up close and personal with my new accessory. “That’s white gold.”

Not to stereotype gay guys, but how the hell was Russ able to clock that so fast?

“I felt like wearing it. For old times’ sake.” I know I’m a jerk for invoking my late wife in a lie, but desperate times. My marriage to Des cannot become local news. Gossip spreads faster in Sourwood than crabs in a college dorm.

“That’s not your old wedding ring. It was black silicone. It was better for all the rugged hiking and biking you and Katie used to do.” Russ, who apparently has a photographic memory when it comes to my life, arches an eyebrow at me. “That’s what you told me after she passed.”

Bless Russ for being a great listener and an attentive friend. But also…crap.

I laugh too loudly. “Oh, it’s, uh, it’s a long story. Just a kind of legal thing.”

“Is that why you went to the courthouse with Uncle Des?” Davy asks from an open car window.

“Why did you open your window?” I try to sound stern but it comes out panicked.

“Because Dean farted.”

“Davy farted first!” Dean yells from his seat.

“You went to the courthouse with Des? For, like, a marriage license?” Russ raises his eyebrows.

“Technically?” For someone who’s involved in a fake marriage and fraud, my lying ability needs work.

“You and Des are married?”