Page 90 of Forgotten Romance

It’s not snowing tonight, but it’s fucking freezing, and I’m glad we decided to come earlier in the afternoon than usual. Not that it helps. My nose is like ice even under my billions of layers, but Davey’s only in jeans, a sweater, and a coat, the smart-ass, and I had to bribe the babies into their puffer jackets. They’d run barefoot through the snow if I didn’t stop them.

We line up to grab our tickets, and as soon as we’re inside, Kiera can’t stop talking. She pulls us from place to place while Van takes a moment to warm up to the overstimulation. The game booths are right at the entrance, with the amusement rides further back. Frozen dirt and gravel on the path crunches under my feet, and I’m glad the kids are holding Davey’s hands because my gloved ones are stuffed up under my armpits.

I fucking hate the cold.

I drift a little ways behind them, watching Davey. My gaze travels over his broad shoulders, admiring the way his light brown skin looks against his black coat and curls. How tall he is compared to Kiera and the easy way he has Van tucked up in one arm.

We go from booth to booth, losing epically at just about everything. We finally reach the rides just as Van is reaching that hopped-up excitement where he gets tunnel-visioned and way more determined than any three-year-old has the right to be. To the point where he wants to go on the train ride, and we say he can go on the train ride, but he keeps asking for the train ride.

My frustration prods at me.

“Yes. Van. Train.”

“Train, Daddy, train, Daddy, train, Daddy.”

“We’re going there now,” Davey tells him. “You need to wait a minute.”

“Train! Me go on train! Traaaaain!” His voice turns shrill as he kicks his little legs, and Davey has to set him on the ground.

“Hey, no kicking.” My voice has slipped up a notch.

“Traaaain!”

“Yes. We are going to the train.”

“But I don’t want to go on the train,” Kiera says, stomping her foot.

“We’ll go on the train first, and then you get to pick something,” I point out.

“Traaaain, Daddy! Van go on train!”

“I hate the train!”

The argument goes on, funneling into this one constant stream of noise in my brain. The incoming explosion is going to be a big one because dear fucking god, children, listen when I speak.

But before I can get a word out, Davey tosses Van over his shoulder.

“And home we go.”

He walks calmly in the direction of the exit, and Kiera’s mouth drops.

“But you promised us rides!”

Davey glances back at her as Van keeps flailing and screaming. “Well, you said you didn’t want to go on the train, even though Dad said your ride would come after, so that makes me think you didn’t want to go on a ride at all.”

“I do, I just don’t want to go on a train.”

“Then don’t go on a train. Wait while Van does, and then it’s your turn.”

“But I don’t want to wait.”

“Then we go home.”

“That’s not fair.”

A stray elbow hits the back of Davey’s head, but even that doesn’t bring the anger out in him. “I know it feels that way. But since Van is little and doesn’t understand, he goes first. You’re bigger and can understand more, so you go second. Dad and I are biggest and understand how to be patient the most, so we go third. Taking turns is important. Otherwise, we go home.”

I watch as she struggles to process it all before she turns determined and nods. “Fine. I’ll go on the stupid train.”

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