“Winner,” the carny yells, when every clown is taken out.
I clap my hands and whistle, and Micah drops the gun, taking me into a bold public kiss, as if he’d gone to war and come home missing me. When he breaks the kiss and leans away, I smile at him. “And just where did you learn to shoot like that?”
He shoves his hands in his pockets. “My father liked to hunt. It’s the one thing we did together.”
Tension creases his eyes whenever he speaks of his father, and while everyone has their own baggage, I can’t imagine ever talking about my parents and not having good memories to mention. My chest tightens at the thought, and even if it’s not my pain, I still feel it.
“Name your prize,” the carny says, waving to the prizes hanging from the ceiling of the booth.
Micah arches a brow at me. “Yours to pick, love.”
“Ooh, lucky me.” I examine the big teddy bears and other stuffed animals. Though none of those compare to what fills my vision. “The cotton candy, please.”
The carny hands me the plastic bag of blue and pink cotton candy, and I spin around to Micah. “Ever tried this?” I ask him.
“No.” He frowns at the plastic bag. “And I’m not sure I want to.”
“Oh, don’t knock it until you try it.” I exhale a long breath, glancing out at the crowd rushing by us. We have ridden every ride, and walked through the park twice and the noise is starting to get to me.
My thoughts must’ve shown on my face, since Micah comments, “It’s loud.”
“Somewhere quieter, then?”
“Yeah, come this way.” He takes my hand and leads me toward the stone pathway behind the Ferris wheel. I’m anticipating a sudden snapping of lights, when a photographer captures Micah and me together. But then I nearly laugh at my own thoughts. No one would expect Micah to be here. I assume Micah himself wouldn’t expect to be here.
We walk for a little bit, silent, hand in hand, as the warm breeze brushes across my face. Up ahead of us, the lights from the Golden Gate Bridge twinkle like stars in the night sky.
Micah stops at one of the benches along the edge of the bay and we sit down, staring out at the quiet water. He drapes his arm across the back of the bench, resting his hand on my shoulder. “So, carnivals are your idea of fun?” he asks.
“Well, it’s one idea of fun.” I cross my legs, snuggling into his side, and open the bag of cotton candy. “You’ve never done anything like this before?”
He accepts the piece of cotton candy I offer him, and I’m watching him intently when he places it into his mouth. He immediately frowns. “That’s disgusting.”
“It is not,” I argue, tossing some into my mouth and moaning in delight when the sugary goodness melts against my tongue. He flinches, recoiling, and forcibly swallows, when I add, “Anyway, go on. You haven’t done anything like this before?”
“The boarding school I went to as a child didn’t venture out to places like this.” His fingers begin trailing over my arm, up and down,
bringing a sense of relaxation, not a blaze of passion. Which I admit makes me happy. I like that he can set my body on fire, but I also like that it’s not all he can do to me. I’m warm, comfortable, and I like sitting next to him in a quiet moment together, when he continues, “We visited the wonders of the world and monuments for field trips, and things more educational.”
“Those field trips must have been incredible, though.”
“They were” is his reply.
I note the longing in his voice. And I know that longing well. I remember having it myself when things began to change for me after I moved in with Darius. The constant wonder if you’ve missed out on something in your life. The difference being I made sure I didn’t miss out. I did what I wanted, what made me happy. I’m beginning to see that Micah never had that option.
I offer him more cotton candy.
He glares at my fingers. “No, one taste was enough.”
I laugh and put the piece in my mouth, watching an elderly couple walking by us, hand in hand, before I turn my attention to Micah again. “Tell me something else I don’t know about you.”
He’s watching the couple too, and only when they fade into the night does he answer me. “If you look just past the bridge, do you see that really bright light by the boat dock?”
I squint my eyes, staring past all the twinkling lights. “I think so.”
“That’s my house.”
“Oh, wow.” Now I’m looking a little harder. I can’t see the house at all from where we sit, but the light from the bridge and his boathouse does show me something. “Is that your boat?”