"I'm always early." He falls into step beside me as Cora darts forward to look at the first booth we pass, close enough that his arm brushes mine. "You look great, by the way."
"The shorts aren't too much?" I worry my bottom lip between my teeth.
He looks at me with an expression that answers the question more thoroughly than words would. "No. Definitely not."
Downtown has been transformed the way it is every year. It’s the biggest event besides Christmas. The streets are blocked off from traffic, booths lining both sides, the smell of kettle corn and fried everything drifting on the breeze. The carnival rides are set up in the parking lot behind the pavilion, and I can already hear the music from the carousel mixing with the crowd noise. It's peak small town, and I've always loved it, but today it feels different. Today I'm watching Cora experience it with someone walking next to me who keeps pointing things out to her before she notices them herself, like he's been paying attention to what she gravitates toward.
We find Gunner and Amy near the lemonade stand, Rosa stands next to Gunner. Amy lights up when she sees us.
"Oh, she wore the tutu." Amy holds her hand up and Cora slaps it immediately. “It looks really good, girlie."
"I told her," Cora says.
Rosa and Cora talk excitedly to each other. I can’t understand what the hell they’re saying, but they’re very excited. Gunner extends a hand to Mark and they do the manly handshake thing that always makes me laugh. I catch Amy's eye over their heads.
She mouths he's so hot at me.
I mouth back stop it.
She grins and doesn't stop it.
We move through the social as a loose group, stopping at booths, eating things we probably shouldn't in the first hour. Mark buys Cora a funnel cake and only slightly regrets it when she ends up with powdered sugar on her nose, her chin, and somehow her elbow. He finds a booth selling handmade jewelry and points out a bracelet with orange beads that Cora immediately has to have, and he buys it before I can say anything, fastening it around her wrist with more dexterity than I expected from someone with hands as big as his.
When we get to the carnival section, Cora and Rosa make a direct line for the carousel. Gunner and Amy follow behind, Amy looking over her shoulder. “We’ve got this!”
Mark and I stand at the edge of the gate watching, and he leans back against the fence rail next to me, close enough that our shoulders touch.
"You're good at this," I say, giving him the compliment.
"At what?"
"Hanging out with the kids, and not losing your cool. You’re good at anticipating what she wants and needs." I nod toward Cora, who is now mounted on a white horse next to Rosa. They’re talking with their hands and laughing loudly. "You didn't have to do the bracelet."
"She looked at it for a long time."
"She looks at a lot of things." I give him a look. “Doesn’t mean that she should get everything she looks at. I work hard not to spoil her.”
"I know, but getting her a few things isn’t going to spoil her, I promise.”
I'm quiet for a second, watching the carousel start to turn. "I'm not used to someone paying that much attention."
He looks at me, and I keep my eyes on the ride. "You should be."
I don't have a response for that, so I let it drop in between both of us. I’m aware this is my hang up and no one else’s. When Cora comes back to us, she grabs both of our hands and demands we go toward the Tilt A Whirl, which she has already declared too scary for her personal taste but very appropriate for adults. Gunner puts his arm around Rosa and offers to stay with Cora while Amy finds them something to eat, and somehow within ninety seconds I'm in a Tilt A Whirl car pressed against Mark's side with the bar down across our laps.
"I should tell you I'm going to scream," I say.
"Good to know."
"I always scream on this thing. I've screamed on it every year since I was nine."
"Trish." He puts his arm around me, pulling me closer into his side, and tilts his head down toward mine. "That’s fine with me, at least then I’ll know how it sounds when you scream."
The car starts to move.
I scream, and he laughs the entire time. Not at me though, but with me, or maybe just at the general absurdity of the spinning and the way it’s plastering us both to the left side of the car. I grab onto his arm at one point and don't let go, and he covers my hand with his and holds on through the whole rotation. When the ride slows to a stop, I'm laughing too hard to stand up straight.
"Every year?" He questions, helping me over the bar.
