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Mel glanced back to him and smiled, this time, the gesture reaching her eyes and making them crinkle. She gave a little laugh and ate a bite of her funnel cake. “Sorry. I was just thinking how young she looked, which is silly considering we’re very likely the same age.”
“Probably.” Blake smiled, but it felt forced.
“When you’ve had kids and been through stuff like I have, like your husband leaving, I guess it ages you in a way that doesn’t always show in the lines on your skin or the wrinkles around your mouth. It makes you feel older up here.” She tapped the side of her head. “Even at work, with colleagues and my friends, it’s hard not to compare myself, to feel like I don’t stack up in a room full of my peers. Silly, I know.”
So she had been married. And he left. It was the first she had made mention of the triplet’s father, and the urge to ask more questions picked at him. But instead of a question, he said what he thought she needed to hear, “You more than stack up, Mel.”
Something flickered in those amber eyes, turning them to firelight. It was the closest he could come to outright telling her she was beautiful without stepping over a line. If he could, he would also tell her that Jen’s money didn’t make her better. The fact that Mel had been married and now had kids she raised on her own didn’t make her any less amazing. The opposite, in fact. It made her more, so much more. Because in a world full of selfishness, Mel chose t
hree others before herself. Every day. She got on the subway for them, striving one small step at a time toward her dream—toward that newspaper clipping of the house, hoping, working, wishing, and fighting for a better life for herself and her kids. It was more than Blake could say for his own parents who abandoned him. What would it have been like to grow up with a parent that fought for you instead of leaving you?
He opened his mouth to say something else when Blake, Peter, and Kinsley piled off the mini carousel and jumped into Mel’s arms with squeals of excitement.
“Can we get balloon animals?” Peter asked.
Mel ruffled his hair with her hand. “Sure. Let’s go.” She clutched his hand and turned, scanning the crowd.
“I’m not sure where they are,” Blake said, craning his neck. And then he saw it, right as Peter pointed them out, next to the informational booths.
“Over there! We saw it from the ride,” he yelled and gripped Mel’s hand as he half-dragged Mel and his brother and sister along to the booth.
Blake’s stomach dropped as he scrambled to catch up. He nipped at their heels as they neared the clown, with his giant red shoes and brightly painted face, making animals for the kids. And by the looks of it, the balloon making was partially a tactic to entertain the children as their parents received information from the nearby tents.
Blake shoved his hands in his pockets, saying a silent prayer and hoping to quickly get a balloon, then steer them away again, but the moment the kids stopped in front of the clown, Jen spotted them and glided over.
“There you are.” Jen’s hand slid down his arm, then to his hand, giving it a little squeeze.
Mel’s gaze drifted to where their hands met, then quickly away again. When she met Jen’s eyes, she smiled. “The kids are having so much fun. Thank you for inviting us.”
“Absolutely. We do this every year, and as we were getting ready this year, it just popped in my head. You know, I should have Blake invite the lady who he’s helping.”
Blake scratched the back of his neck, trying not to let Jen’s words grate on his nerves. Referring to Mel as the lady he was helping wasn’t only inaccurate but almost made it sound like he was doing Mel a favor. If anything, it was the other way around. He thought he made that clear to them.
Mel simply nodded and pressed her lips together, then turned to the kids who were patiently waiting behind a couple of other kids for their balloons.
“Actually,” Jen stepped toward her. “Here. You might want one of these.” She held a pamphlet out to Mel in her outstretched hand. “It has a list of all the vendors present today, as well as other places in the city that service underprivileged families.”
Bake squeezed his eyes closed. The air in his lungs stalled before he blinked them open again.
Mel’s gaze shot up from the outstretched pamphlet to Jen’s face, her eyes wide, mouth parted. “Uh. I’m sorry. What?” She shook her head and tucked her dark hair behind her ears.
At Jen’s perplexed expression, Mel’s attention drifted to the pamphlet once more, and she reached for it. The paper snapped as she took it and held it in her hands. Blake had half a mind to snatch it from her fingers. Instead, he watched her forehead furrow and her mouth move as she silently read off the names.
Jen, blind to the simmering tension rising off Mel like a rolling wave, prattled on. “Every year, we get all the best New York has to offer to help struggling families. It’s one of our most successful charity events of the year.”
All the blood drained from Mel’s face.
Blake shot Jen a warning glare, but she was oblivious. “We provide assistance in finding affordable housing, transportation, and information on WIC and other government subsidies.”
Blake clenched and unclenched his hands at his sides.
“...But we also have medical professionals here willing to do screenings and tests, all at no charge. We even help place parents in better jobs, and—”
“Stop,” Blake snapped, unable to take it any longer.
Startled, Jen glanced up at him. He pinched the bridge of his nose and whispered, “Please, just stop.”
Hurt flickered in her eyes before Mel, now sallow and pale, handed the pamphlet back to her with a shaking hand. Then she turned to Blake, her voice surprisingly steady when she said, “Is that how you see us?”
