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I might have joined, but I’d been too busy with a few last-minute touches to the house before we staged Toby’s re-enactment there later.
We returned from our food break in time to see him clinch the win. Wes bellowed and pumped his fist into the air. “Yes, we are the champions!”
“Pretty sure we contributed like one answer,” Beckett said. “Clark is the champion.”
“Clark is the man with all the answers,” Tucker agreed with a chuckle.
Clark waved off their praise like the modest guy he was, letting his team accept their prize while he made his way to us. “Hey, you two! When did you get here?”
“We saw most of the game, but we snuck away to grab some snacks.” I held out the funnel cake to him. “A little birdie told me this was your favorite.”
His eyes lit up. “That’s so sweet!”
“That’s why we waited in line forever?” Toby said in disbelief. “Oh my god, Dad, you’ve got it bad.”
I laughed. “Shut it.”
Clark took a dainty bite of funnel cake, sugar dusting his lips, and smiled up at me. “You’re going to spoil me.”
“You deserve spoiling.”
I wanted to kiss those sugary lips, and then I remembered that I could. Nothing was holding us back any longer. Not secrecy, not my ex-wife’s presence, not my son’s lack of approval. Our weeks together had flown by, solidifying our relationship in ways that still astounded me. Not just our relationship, our family.
I leaned down to steal a kiss, Clark’s lips tasting as sweet as him, and Toby made gagging sounds behind us. We broke apart with a laugh, and I hauled Toby into my arms and tickled him. “You think you’re funny, huh? You think you’re funny? I’ll show you funny!”
He squealed and flailed until I put him down, but he wore a wide smile as he ducked behind Clark. “Protect me!”
“Don’t put me in the middle,” Clark protested. “I hate tickles!”
“But you need me for the re-enactment later! I’m the star!”
“Maybe I can find an understudy,” Clark teased.
I darted at them and they shrieked, but I just swept Clark into my arms and kissed him playfully.
“Not again,” Toby said with a groan.
My son liked to complain, but he was just as smitten as me. The moment he’d let go of the old hope that his mom and I would reunite—or even should—he’d embraced Clark’s role in our little family. As the 150th celebration and the re-enactments Clark’s group had been working on crept closer, the two had been like two peas in a pod, working on costumes, props, and rehearsals together. So much so that I sometimes felt like the third wheel.
Not that I would complain. Seeing Toby this happy felt like a miracle after the year we’d had. And having a man like Clark beside me? It was so incredibly surreal, like a dream I didn’t even know I had. He was still technically living in his cottage, but he barely spent any time there, coming by our place every night for dinner and sleepovers. He’d even moved Mookie in once I’d finished renovating enough that the space was safe for a little furball with no boundaries. Toby had been over the moon and was already calling Mookie his dog.
We walked the fairgrounds, pausing to visit some of the vendors. People stopped us to say hello, to tell Clark they were looking forward to the Living History Tour later that day, or simply to ruffle Toby’s hair.
My son drank in the attention, the same as he had with the grannies, and I knew the feeling. I remembered the way this whole town had felt like a big family when I was growing up. I had lost that in my time away, and when I’d returned, I’d felt a bit like a bug under the magnifying glass, but with Clark’s hand in mine and my son’s smile as bright as the sun, I didn’t mind their interest. In fact, I welcomed it.
Let them watch. Let them gossip. Let them tell everyone that the rumors were true: Hunter Rhodes was a man totally in love with his family.
* * *
CLARK
I watchedToby in the center of the round side porch of his house, looking like a little man in the old-fashioned suit he wore. I had been jittery with nerves for each re-enactment, but it was even more intense with Toby because I wanted everything to go perfectly. He’d worked so hard these past weeks to finish his script, incorporate my suggestions into revisions, learn his lines, rehearse, and also help with costumes and props.
Will had withdrawn from my program after I met with his parents, so Toby had basically been on his own, but he hadn’t complained once about the extra work. He’d been excited for this project, and seeing the way he’d flourished after not wanting to be part of my program or live in this house or, heck, even have me in his family, was awe-inspiring. I was so dang proud of the kid.
Hunter wrapped an arm around me and murmured into my ear, “Breathe. He’s got this.”
“He’s so small up there.”
