"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. Just people milling about, a child holding cotton candy. In the distance, I can make out Toby and Quentin by a Whack-a-Mole.
"Oh," Joshua says weakly. "She came."
"Of course she did," Tristan says. "Go on, let's talk to them."
But they've already seen us, apparently, as a middle-aged man and woman with a girl the same age as Joshua walk toward us. The girl is smiling, her wheat-blonde hair in a braid.
"Hello, Joshua," she says in an accented voice. French?
"Hi," he murmurs.
"This is your dad's place?"
He doesn't say anything. Tristan cuts in, extending a hand to the parents. "Tristan Conway, Joshua's father. Thank you for coming."
"Thanks for inviting us," the lady says, and she's definitely French. "We haven't met any parents from Danielle's school yet."
"No, people like to keep to themselves. But I'm sure there'll be a chance to meet others soon," he says. "There'll be a bake sale or walk-a-thon soon enough."
Okay, this is my cue to leave. Not only have I met his son, but now I'm trespassing on his socializing with other parents.
I take a careful step back. "I'll see you-"
"Do you want to go on the Ferris Wheel?" Joshua asks Danielle. His voice is high. "It's really tall."
"Oh, can I, Mama?"
"I'll go with them," Tristan says. "I'll be in the carriage behind theirs."
"Why not? We'll be by the hot dog stand, Danielle."
Joshua turns to me. "You and Dad can go in one carriage and Danielle and I in another."
"I'm not-"
"Sounds good," Tristan interjects.
"Will you take care of this?" Joshua hands me the stuffed elephant and I grip on to the plushy. The long trunk drapes down my arm. I open my mouth to protest, but the kids are already heading for the Ferris wheel. A light hand on my back and Tristan is directing me after them.
"Sorry about this," he murmurs.
"No, that's okay," I murmur back. The Ferris wheel isn't that high, is it? It's in Central Park. We're not talking Six Flags here.
I should be able to do it.
I can do it.
"These were your special guests?"
"Yes," he says. "Danielle's a friend of Joshua's from school."
"I didn't know you had a son."
His breath is quiet, but audible. "I know."
"I'm sorry if I… intruded back there. I take it you don't like mixing business with your private life."