Once we reached the tent in question, Camden had no issues letting go of August’s hand. He hurried into the tent and stared at the walls covered in stuffed animals, his head whipping from one wall to the next.

Each stuffed animal came with either a cone of homemade candy or a big lollipop.

It was heaven for Camden, and he was far from alone in there. A handful of children of all ages and their parents pointed and gazed at the toys.

August and I waited outside for the moment.

I planted a quick kiss on his neck. “I’m buying him one.”

He squeezed my hand. “Stop bein’ so damn sweet, Anthony. You’re already a little too good to be true.”

I grinned and scanned the tent for Camden. He was eyeing a shelf with long-eared bunnies. Then I spotted a sign that said some of the stuffed animals could be personalized, and I decided to go inside and help him out.

“How’s it goin’, tesorino?” It was today’s nickname for him. He’d approved with a big smile once I’d told him it meant little treasure.

“I think I want a bunny.” He pointed to one on the top shelf. It was light brown or beige. “How much is it? I brought the allowance Daddy gave me last Friday.”

“I’m paying,” I replied. “Did you see the sign over there? You can put your name on the bunny’s ear.”

It was just five bucks extra, and we’d pick it up in thirty minutes.

“Oh, I want that, please.” His tone turned pleading, and he grasped my arm as if he was getting ready to beg.

“Then it’s yours.” I dropped a kiss at the top of his head. “Let’s go talk to the saleslady.”

“Gah! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

I chuckled and hugged him to me on the way to the register.

Yeah, leaving next Monday was gonna fucking suck.

It took a stuffed animal and some cotton candy for Camden to come alive, and we ended up spending the whole day at the festival. Whenever he felt bold, he peeked out from under his fabric mask and grinned at us.

We strolled up and down the rows and tried enough food that we knew we were gonna regret it eventually, but right now, life was fucking perfect.

I even got to show my famous chef my skills for picking the right place to have carnitas for dinner. It had to be the one vendor that displayed bottles of Mexican Coke in front of their register.

August knew very well that it was the right way to go, but he didn’t expect me to know.