I felt so clueless about these things. I needed to get out there in the world and experience other cultures.
“I’ll have to put that on my endless list of places to visit,” I said. “What does MAT stand for?”
“Meat and three,” he answered. “It’s a local term for supper, basically. You have your meat, and you have your three sides. It’s the concept of my restaurants. You pick the meat first and how you’d like it, and then there’s a whole menu of sides.”
The food lover in me highly approved. “That settles it. I ain’t leaving Nashville before I’ve been to your restaurant here.”
He grinned and stepped closer to kiss my cheek. “It’s a date, darlin’.”
We tried a booth that sold full English breakfast before Camden demanded we go see the stuffies. August had said the English weren’t known for good food, but I’d thought it was delicious. The beans in tomato sauce, the sausage, the eggs, the toast, and then I’d wrapped up the meal by sampling their scones too. It came with four types of preserves, which made me go back to buy some for Nonna.
“You’re a sweet grandson,” August said.
“The woman sends me off after Sunday dinner with leftovers that last throughout the week. Bringing home some souvenirs is the least I can do.” I’d selected a collection of sample jars for her. Strawberry, blackberry, lemon curd, and a few others. Pop better not steal ’em from her.
It was good to take a break by walking Camden over to the stuffed animals, though. I was so full, and I’d need an hour or two before I could eat again.
“I see them!” Camden exclaimed. He pointed down the row we were in and started dragging August along. “We’re almost there.”
“Oof—easy, boy. Daddy’s too full to run.” August blew out a breath and slowed down.
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.
I smirked around a mouthful of the juicy meat. “You’re talkin’ to a guido mick who grew up near a bodega that would go bankrupt if they didn’t sell Fanta and Mexican Coca-Cola. If there’s one thing I know, it’s good Mexican food. And Puerto Rican food—madonn’.” I kissed my fingertips. “It’s almost better than pizza.”
Almost.
He laughed softly. “I love how excited you get about food.”
I shrugged and smiled. I was a simple man.
“Anthony!” I heard Camden holler from somewhere. The sun had set, and the rows were packed with people, so it was difficult to see where he was. He appeared from the crowd a few seconds later with his mask pushed up to his forehead, out of breath and visibly excited. “I know where we’re gonna go next! There’s a seating area with a bar and stuff, and they’ve got live music!”
Sounded good to me. It’d be nice to get off my feet for a minute.
On the way over there, August stopped at a stand to buy candied almonds and a small bag of buttered popcorn.
“Daddy, we gots to go now!” Camden said, frustrated.
August lifted a brow and tossed a handful of nuts into his mouth. “Are we in a hurry?”
“Uh, yeah.” Camden nodded. “Maybe someone signed Anthony up for the open-mic thing.”
I did a double take at him. “Boy, you did what?”
“I said someone,” he grated. “Come on. Local radio is here, and you can tell everyone you’re playing at a big festival next weekend. It’s
