The way I held her in the dark, her body curled against mine. How, even exhausted and vulnerable, she didn’t pull away. How I never wanted to let go.
Me too, Jules.Me too.
I step away, putting some distance between us before I do something reckless.
“Make sure you save some paint for me,” I call over my shoulder. “I want a custom Jules face paint.”
She shakes her head, but her smile is soft, lingering. “I’ll see what I can do.”
I grin as I head toward Tate, knowing one thing for sure. She’s not running this time.
I spend the next hour trailing behind Tate and Leo, who’s dressed as Spiderman sans the face mask, as they sprint from attraction to attraction, their laughter slicing through the crisp autumn air. They scream at the top of their lungs in the Haunted House, their hands clutching each other’s sleeves like lifelines. They dart between game booths in the parking lot, pockets quickly filling with cheap prizes and candy. They dance wildly in front of the live band, oblivious to the amused smiles of passing parents.
And then there’s the cake walk.
Tate grins up at me, eyes full of mischief. “Dad, you have to do it with us.”
“Tate, I don’t think—”
“Come on,” he pleads, tugging at my sleeve. “It’s for charity.”
I sigh dramatically, but the second the music starts, Tate and Leo both shriek with excitement and take off running around the numbered circle. I follow behind at a more reasonable pace, shaking my head.
Somehow, I win.
“Mom loves strawberry and chocolate,” Tate reminds me as I scan the cake options. “You should get one of those.”
I glance down at him, lifting a brow. I think my son might be trying to help me woo Jules. Not that I need help.
“You pick,” I tell him, watching his face light up with determination.
He reaches for a rich, glossy chocolate cake in the center, eyes gleaming. “This one.”
It’s almost too big for him to lift, so I step in to help, my hands steadying his before the whole thing ends up on the pavement.
Pearla helps us box it up, then leans in conspiratorially. “Don’t forget, costume contest is in thirty minutes.”
“Got it,” I nod as Tate and Leo take off running ahead.
When we reach the face-painting booth, Jules is finishing up a delicate purple butterfly on a little blonde girl’s face. I stop just short of the booth, watching as Jules works, completely focused. A tiny crease forms between her brows as she blends the purple into a shimmering blue along the girl’s cheeks.
God, I’ve missed watching her like this.
“Mom!” Tate hollers, completely shattering the moment. “Dad won you a cake!”
Jules’ eyes flick toward me, landing briefly on the box. “What flavor?”
“Your second favorite,” Tate announces proudly. “Chocolate.”
A flicker of amusement dances behind Jules’ hazelnut eyes before she returns her attention to the little girl in front of her. “All done.”
The kid gasps as Jules hands her a mirror, eyes going wide with wonder.
“Do you like it?” Jules asks softly.
The little girl nods enthusiastically before hopping out of the chair and sprinting toward her mom.
I watch as Jules wipes her hands on a napkin, finally looking up at me. I swear there’s something in her gaze that wasn’t there before.
