“Okay, mijo.” Isaac kisses David’s forehead and I melt a little, spying from the rearview mirror. He places one of David’s toy trucks in his lap, waiting for his son to clutch it in his hand. “We’re gonna go for a drive. I’ll be right up front.” His eyes stay on his son as he steps back outside the vehicle and shuts the door.
“Do you want to sit in the back with him?” I say after Isaac climbs into the passenger seat. I feel bad for not offering sooner. I look in the mirror, but David doesn’t show any signs of distress or anxiety about being separated from his dad. “Will that make him more comfortable?”
Isaac, on the other hand, looks ten seconds from jumping in the back. He glances over his shoulder and chuckles, shaking his head. “Him or me?”
I grin, reaching out to squeeze Isaac’s leg. “I don’t mind playing chauffeur to two of my favorite men.”
“He’s fine. I’m the one acting like a baby.” Isaac takes my hand and brings it to his lips for a kiss. “Glad you won’t hold it against me.”
“Never. And if you change your mind or we need to leave, that’s what we’ll do. There’s no pressure.” I signal and pull out into traffic. Usually, I drive with a wild abandon, knowing I’ll crush anything in my way, but a protectiveness causes me to take each turn a little slower. I even drive the speed limit. My friends would be shocked. At the stoplight I turn in my seat to wink at Isaac. “This is supposed to be fun.”
“Fun?” Isaac’s brows shoot up, his eyes wide. “What is that?”
I reach across the seat and swat at his chest. “Something you and I could use more of.”
“Amen to that.”
The drive goes smoothly, and David doesn’t say a peep. Though I don’t expect him to, his silence is unfamiliar. In a world where I’m constantly around people moving place to place and the “busy” is always cranked up at a ten, it’s strange to be quiet. I usually drive alone, but even then I listen to music or a podcast or return a phone call.
The park is already full when we pull into a parking space at the festival. The mile of roadway closed for the event is filled with rows and rows of tents so dense, it’s impossible to see the end of the street. The scent of different cuisines from the food trucks permeates the air, and my stomach rumbles at the promise of all the eating to be had.
Isaac pulls David from the car, and tugs a hat down on his son’s forehead. It’s almost identical to the one he’s wearing, and I grin at how adorable they are. Is there anything more attractive than a handsome man caring for his child? If so, I don’t recall what it is.
“You good?” I bite at the inside of my cheek, sensing Isaac’s apprehension.
His gaze trains on the rows of tables. There’s no live music until two o’clock, and the early crowd should be more family oriented. I made sure to check. But still, the space buzzes with conversation.
“Yeah.” Isaac reaches for David’s hand and exhales a breath, forcing another smile. “Let’s do this.” He holds his other palm out. I can’t help but feel he’s offering more than his hand. Trust. Companionship. Real. Everything I’ve ever wanted. Nothing I expected. It’s almost too much to hope this man could be mine. That our future could be filled with lazy weekends at festivals and evenings together in bed. Normal. Authentic. Simplistic. An existence I thought I gave up the moment I landed my first big role.
My pulse picks up, like a daredevil running to the edge of the cliff, ready to fly. I slide my palm in his and we take the first steps into the unknown. We’re all being extra brave today, and something about that fills me with pride.
Twenty-Nine
Isaac
“He loves the water,” I say, lifting my gaze to Cora.
We’d worked our way through the festival booths, browsing the local art, crafts, and food when we came upon this splash pad. David’s eyes immediately lit up at the sight of the small fountains. Cora found an open bench and we’ve been sitting here watching him play for the past twenty minutes. David shows no signs of stopping.
“I need to get him more water toys.” I don’t have a yard or a patio, but at least he could splash in the bathtub.
“You’re welcome to use my pool. Any time.”
God, I love Cora’s generous nature. I picked up on it back when she stopped by the coffee shop for our late-night conversations. She’s not one of those people who offer help with ulterior motives. She isn’t trying to be liked or win brownie points. She genuinely wants to bring others joy. Maybe that’s why I said yes to today. Why it makes me hope for some slim possibility we can make this thing between us work. A real relationship. Even for a short time.
“You wouldn’t mind?” I say, thinking of the layout to her upscale condo. “It’d be okay with the other tenants?”
She laughs ruefully. “Better be. You’d be my guests, and I pay good money for amenities I hardly get to use. I’d love it if you did. Honestly, the play pool is never crowded. You’ll find a few sun worshipers, but that’s about it.”
“I might have to take you up on that.”
“Good.” She smiles with satisfaction and pushes to her feet. “I’m going to hit the restroom, and then grab a bite at the food truck.” She nods across to the vendor who’s been peddling funnel cake like the crack it is. “You want one too? Would David like it?”
“You don’t want to share yours?” I tease, already knowing the answer.
She laughs heartily. “Never. I’ll get two.”
“Here.” I reach for my back pocket.
She waves me off. “No. My treat.”
My treat. It’s a phrase I may hate after today. Cora insists on paying for everything right down to the parking, and while I understand it’s because she wants to, I hate the imbalance of our financial dispositions. Part of me suspects she only offers because she thinks I can’t afford to. She might be right, but that’s not the point. I’ve been providing for myself and my son without any help, and that doesn’t change now. “Let me get this one.” I pull out a twenty, but she’s already backed up a few steps. I’d have to make a scene or leave David’s side to reach her.
She knows it too. A triumphant grin spreads across her gorgeous lips before she turns away.
I grumble, trying to be mad, but her stubbornness is sort of endearing. I’ll get her back later with a punishment we’ll both enjoy.
I return the money to my wallet, and pull out the sunscreen from my backpack. We’ve pointedly kept under the shade for most of the morning, but it’s been hours since we left the house and he’s due for more. David’s complexion is darker than mine, more like his mom’s, but his skin burns easily. We don’t spend much time outside and maybe that’s why it’s more sensitive.
I grease up his arms, neck, and face like some sort of expert sunscreen ninja, not interrupting his play. He ignores me until I get to his face, but thankfully he doesn’t fight it too bad. If anything, he ignores my presence altogether. That’s fine. I refuse to screw up like the first time I took him to the park, shortly after gaining full custody. That night he was ripe as a tomato, crying and suffering, all my fault and I could do little to soothe his pain. One of many learning curve failures on my part, but not a mistake I’ll repeat.