“I think I want the giant elephant.”
Joshua gives me a smile, tinged with shyness and delight. “You like elephants?”
“They’re one of my favorite animals,” I say.
“I’ve seen them a couple of times,” he offers. “Dad and I went to Thailand last year with Grandma for Christmas. We visited an elephant sanctuary.” He pronounces sanctuary with great care, making me smile.
“That’s amazing.”
“It is.” He pauses, looking back at his dad before returning his gaze to me. “Do you know they have the best memories of any animal?”
“Oh, I know, isn’t that cool?”
“The coolest,” he agrees. “Do you want to play darts too? Dad, can she get some darts?”
Tristan opens his mouth, but I beat him to it, fishing out two quarters from my wallet. “I’ll play.”
“Well, I suppose that means I have to as well,” Tristan says. He waves over the teenager managing the booth. She accepts my quarters, but Tristan hands her a twenty. “Give us a bucket.”
She grins but says nothing. A few seconds later and there’s a near limitless supply of darts between us.
I raise my eyebrow at him. Tristan just shrugs, reaching for one. “This is good target practice.”
Joshua takes aim, tongue clenched between his teeth. He narrowly misses. “Shoot,” he says. “Dad, your turn. What are you going to choose if you win?”
Tristan weighs a dart in hand. My eyes track the strength of his jaw, the faint crow’s-feet at the edges of his eyes. He can’t be more than ten years older than me, and yet he has a son this old. It’s hard to superimpose the image of him here, talking to his kid, with the man I’d met in the Gilded Room.
Tristan Conway, the enigma.
“I don’t know.” He aims, jaw tense, and throws. A balloon pops with a loud smack.
“Nice one!”
“Thanks, kid.”
“If I win, I think I want an elephant too,” Joshua tells me, reaching for a dart. “Although I think whales are cooler.”
“Whales?”
“We’ve been watching a lot of Blue Planet,” Tristan clarifies. His voice is deep, controlled… but is there a note of embarrassment there?
I can’t picture him relaxing in front of the TV, period, but even less while watching a nature documentary with a kid. But even as I think it… an image emerges of him doing just that. My impression of the man shifts again, becoming even more attractive.
“I’ve seen The Blue Planet,” I say. “It looks amazing. I really want to learn how to dive one day, and get my certificate.”
“You do?” Joshua asks. “I really want to try too. Allegedly I’m too young.”
“You are too young,” Tristan says. “There’s nothing alleged about it. But we’ll go diving when you’re older.”
“Dad and I like to travel,” Joshua tells me. “We go somewhere for every single one of my school holidays.”
I grin at this chatty kid, looking from him to Tristan. The eyes are the same, but one pair is looking at me openly and excitedly, the others with something like wariness. “Your turn,” Tristan tells me, nodding at the dart still in my hand. “Let’s see what you got.”
I throw and miss, but my second shot sends a balloon exploding. I make a victory gesture. “One down, two to go.”
Joshua glances between us before fixing his gaze on the balloons in the distance. Tristan hands him a dart silently. He aims…
And a balloon pops.
“Yes!” He high-fives with Tristan. “That was awesome.”
“It was,” Tristan confirms. “You’ve really got the hang of it now.”
Our eyes meet over Joshua’s head. Perhaps he can see the questions in mine, but Tristan just gives me a single, elegant shrug. He turns back to the balloons.
Where’s Joshua’s mother? Is Tristan divorced? Widowed? Curiosity burns brighter in my stomach, the desire to unlock his secrets. Joshua hits another balloon. It pops with an audible snap, shaking me out of my thoughts.
“Nice one,” Tristan says. “Just one more…”
It takes two more tries, but he hits a third one. He gives us both high fives after that, his curls shaking as he bounces. “Success!”
“Success,” Tristan echoes. “Which stuffed animal do you want?”
Joshua scans the ceiling. There’s no whale, but there’s a dolphin. He points at the elephant. “That one.”
“Really? Good choice,” I say.
“I know,” he says, with the supreme confidence of a child. He tucks it under his arm, and we turn from the booth, leaving the teenager to her social media scrolling.
Tristan puts a hand on Joshua’s shoulder. “They’re here,” he says quietly.
Joshua goes still, his gaze scanning the crowd. I see nothing out of the ordinary.