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“We’ve never been anywhere,” I say, ruffling Dante’s hair.
“Stop that, Mommy, I have gel in.”
“Not for my lack of trying,” Parker gripes indignant. “I’ve been trying to get us on vacation for years.”
“You’ll be coming with us,” Troy says, without missing a beat.
Parker turns to him. “Ah, will you buy me a pony too, rich athlete?”
“I would like a pony too,” Dante says seriously.
“No ponies,” he says, his eyes trailing over me in a look that’s anything but platonic. I shiver, and Troy’s lips lift in recognition before he pulls his son away from the money pit and hauls him on his shoulders. “Where should we go?”
“Disney?” Dante suggests.
“Maybe,” Troy says, absently glancing over at me. “When will you know if you’re taking the job?”
“Soon,” I promise as we exchange another look. I’m seriously considering the move despite the state of our relationship. I don’t want either one of them suffering without the other. Also, I don’t want the distance away from Troy.
“Oh, it’s the blue kind!” Dante says, pointing to a nearby concession stand. “Can I have one?”
“You just had a pushup, bud.”
“It’s the fair,” Parker scolds. “He should have one of everything.”
“True,” Troy says, looking over to me, seeking permission.
“Up to you.”
“Come on,” Parker insists, forever the doting ‘yes’ aunt.
A minute later, and after twenty questions, Dante stands on the table as a man guides his arm to catch the sweet fluffy cotton. Dante’s smile is breathtaking. He’s still somewhere between a baby and a boy, and it both hurts my heart and fills me with pride.
“Hey, man, there’s a line back here,” a guy grumbles from behind us.
Dante looks over to where the man stands, his smile fading slightly. Troy is the first to speak, turning back.
“You’ll get your turn. He’s almost got the hang of it. Chill out.”
“Seriously? He’s not getting the hang of it. Sometime today, guy.”
Troy glares back at the man, nothing but warning in his eyes.
“Troy, don’t,” I whisper.
Parker speaks up. “Are you really going to be that jerk that deprives a kid of a good time?”
The guy scours Parker’s appearance, a smug smirk on his face. He looks to be in his mid-twenties and straight off the set of a rerun of Jersey Shore. “I see you talking, but all I hear is moo, moo, moo, moo, moo. I mean, are you really one to talk about deprivation? It looks like you haven’t deprived yourself of a meal ever.”
My breath catches in my throat as Troy’s fist slams into his face, and he goes down in a wordless heap.
Gasps sound around us as Troy throws a twenty on the table, grabs a bag of ready cotton candy, lifts his son from where he stands motionless, and calmly walks away. Stunned, Parker and I silently follow him out of the carnival and into the parking lot.
“Sorry, bud,” Troy says to Dante, securing him into his seat.
“Can you teach me how to punch?” Dante askes, his eyes still wide, his face stained with the blue cotton candy.
Troy sighs. “I shouldn’t have done that. You know that, right? It’s not okay to hit.”
