He must’ve started rooting for them when he’d lived in New York, when he was young and impressionable and didn’t know better.

“Don’t do it,” Camden said quickly. “They’re Yankees gear. Daddy’s a Yankees fan, and if you are too, I don’t wanna hear about it.”

“I wouldn’t be caught alive in a Yankees shirt,” I chuckled. “It’s a glorified clothing brand worn by tourists.”

August smirked wryly and lifted a brow.

Camden’s eyes lit up.

“I’m from Brooklyn.” It was enough explanation for me. Where I grew up, you cheered for the Mets—end’a fuckin’ discussion. “When I did my postgraduate in the city, I made sure to wear as much Mets gear as possible.”

Camden grinned widely at that and forked up some food that he shoveled into his mouth.

“You went to a local college, I take it?” August asked.

I inclined my head. “I did my undergraduate at Brooklyn College, and then I got my master’s at Hunter in Manhattan.” It almost hadn’t happened. Pop was still balls deep in grief back then from having lost Ma, and my being so much older than Nicky meant he’d been young enough to still need a functioning parent when I went to school. But Nonna had put her foot down and applied for financial aid for me, something I hadn’t been able to turn down. The opportunity had been too big. “What about you two?” I wondered.

August nodded for Camden to go first.

“I was at UCLA when I met Daddy,” Camden said with his mouth full of food. “I was trying to flirt with him, and all he asked was about my school. Like, he said it was too late for me to be outside and that I should go home and watch my cartoons and do my homework.”

I laughed.

August shook his head in amusement. “This little rascal strode up to me one night. Work at the restaurant was winding down, and I went to grab a beer from the bar. He said if I played my cards right, he’d keep me up all night.”

Christ. Why wasn’t I surprised?

“It was my birthday, and I was feelin’ lucky.” Camden shrugged.

“Did it work?” I asked.

Camden scowled to himself, so that had to be a no. “He thought I was too young for him. Such a stupidhead.”

“My brain said one thing, my body another.” August smirked. “I don’t know if I deserve a reward for listenin’ to reason that first night—or if I’m just a weak bastard for foldin’ like a cheap suit the week after when he came in again.”

I smiled.