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“Who wants ice cream?”
“Me!” Bitsy let go of Blake‟s leg just long enough to raise
her hand in the air.
“Well, if my Bitsy wants some ice cream, then some ice
cream my Bitsy shall have,” Tyrone said in his most
magisterial tone, sounding like a judge handing down a
benevolent decision. He took one of Bitsy‟s hands, and she
clung to Blake‟s with her other as they headed toward the
vendor cart with its garishly painted depiction of frozen
confections surrounded by various safari animals.
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After Bitsy had covered his face in sticky chocolate ice
cream kisses—which Tyrone gamely endured, with only a few
pleading looks to Blake that begged him to control his
daughter‟s
enthusiasm—Tyrone
led
them
toward
the
carousel. Bitsy squirmed in Blake‟s lap as they rode in a
miniature carriage, her expression uncertain as she stared
wide-eyed at the spinning world going by, but Tyrone sat
perched on a huge tiger, giddy as a child as it rose and fell
and doing his best to get Bitsy excited about the colorful,
circus-music-emitting phenomenon.
“No more!” Bitsy declared when the ride stopped.
“Not one more?” Tyrone asked, giving her puppy eyes
that would have crumpled Blake‟s will to resist.
Bitsy remained steadfast, however. “No more, Ty Ty.
Naminals now.”
Blake gave Bitsy a little nudge.
“Please?” Bitsy added, turning on the charm.
“Well, all right.” Tyrone met Blake‟s gaze over Bitsy‟s
head and stifled a grin. “I suppose we can pet some
naminals.”
Blake led the way to the petting zoo, stealing glances at
his daughter and his… whatever Tyrone was now. It was so
close to perfect. Tyrone‟s patience with Bitsy‟s moods and
demands had been honed by years of practice with her
father‟s, and—at least for these moments—Blake could see
again the earnest boy he‟d loved so much, the one he‟d
glimpsed as they made love, the one he‟d once seen every
day. He missed that boy.
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The
two
men
followed
Bitsy
as
she
shrieked
incomprehensibly and attempted to terrorize/love a variety of
goats, baby pot-bellied pigs, miniature horses, and sheep.
Though Blake and Tyrone didn‟t talk, there was peace
between them, a shared sense of purpose, as if they truly
were the happy little family Tyrone said he thought of them
as. With each successive relocation to chaperone Bitsy‟s
encounters with new mammalian playmates, Tyrone stood
closer to Blake until finally his hand reached for him. Blake
tried not to cling when Tyrone‟s fingers twined with his.
Tyrone tensed as he caught a father across the petting
zoo staring at them, and Blake‟s heart sank at the knowledge
Tyrone would pull away rather than encourage anyone‟s
belief they were a couple. But he didn‟t. Tyrone‟s fingers
squeezed Blake‟s hand, and though he said nothing and
didn‟t look at him, Blake could feel his friend there with him,
close to the surface of his handsome shell rather than hiding
away down deep where Blake couldn‟t get at him.
The peace was broken by Bitsy‟s forlorn wail. She flung
herself at Blake and sniffled, burrowing into his thigh.
“Daddy, mean goat!”
Blake released Tyrone‟s hand to gather her into his
arms, stroking her hair and examining her worriedly. “What
did the mean goat do to my princess?”
Bitsy‟s sniffling escalated, and she rubbed her eyes.
“Went over there!” She pointed at a sinister looking goat
chewing a mouthful of hay and giving Blake the evil eye.
Then he noticed Bitsy‟s drooping lids and gave Tyrone a look.
Tyrone raised a brow, seeming to read Blake‟s mind,
and jerked his head toward the exit. Blake nodded, and
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104
together they made their way toward the gate. Bitsy
protested half-heartedly, mumbled a few more imprecations
about the goat, and yawned. Then she caught sight of a
miniature horse and made grabby hands, squirming so hard
to get down that Blake almost lost his grip.
“You want a horseyback ride on Uncle Ty Ty?”
Bitsy froze at Tyrone‟s words. She looked up at him with
a calculating expression that she definitely inherited from
Daisy. Then she nodded.
“Neiiiiiigh!” Tyrone said, attempting a whicker and
almost nailing it. He turned his back to Blake and reached
behind him to help Blake settle Bitsy on Tyrone‟s shoulders.
Her chubby little hands fisted in his thick, wavy hair to use
as reins, and she drummed her heels against his pecs.
“Good thing she doesn‟t have spurs,” Tyrone said in an
aside to Blake, his eyes sparkling as if this was the best
imaginable way he could be spending his Sunday afternoon.
Before Blake could respond, Tyrone let out another goofy
neigh and took off at a slow lope in the general direction of
the zoo‟s front gate.
“Naminals!” Bitsy pointed and squealed as they reached
the gift shop, her attention captured by an enormous stuffed
giraffe toy in the window.
Tyrone grunted as Blake helped him detach her from
Tyrone‟s shoulders and set her down. Then she toddled
happily into the tourist trap, blissfully unaware as only a
child could be of how overpriced everything was. It served to
remind Blake of how dependent he was on Tyrone right now,
but before he could get neurotic about it, Tyrone‟s arm stole
around his waist and his lips brushed against Blake‟s cheek.
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