Chapter 7 #2
“They’re fine,” I say, shoving my hands in my pockets. “But I may or may not have a slight fear of heights. I don’t have Chloe’s fearless gene.”
Chloe giggles, skipping ahead on the path. “Daddy hates heights. And rats. But I think rats are cute.”
Emma laughs. “Well, we’ll go easy on you then. Maybe.”
“I appreciate that,” I say dryly.
The go-kart track is set up near the back of the festival grounds, a decent-sized course with actual turns and hay bale barriers, not just some sad oval.
There’s a line but it’s moving steadily, and I can hear the buzz of the small engines and see karts whipping around the curves.
Chloe’s already assessing the available karts, pointing out which ones look fastest.
“That one,” she says, indicating a pink kart near the front. “The tires look better. See how they’re not as worn on the inside edge?”
“You sound like your uncle,” I say, ruffling her hair.
“Uncle Jack says tires are everything,” she says matter-of-factly. “Well, tires and strategy. And knowing when to brake going into a turn. You have to have the right instincts to be fast.”
Emma laughs. “Chloe, I gotta say, I respect how seriously you take this.”
“Go-karts are serious business,” Chloe says, eyeing us with a look that makes it very clear we’re both about to get destroyed. “You need to be able to feel the car.”
I suppress a smile. That’s a direct quote from Jack, who Chloe idolizes.
Victoria and I are neither particularly competitive nor adrenaline junkies who crave speed.
But Chloe grew up watching Jack race in Formula 1 on weekends with me, and despite having been a wild child his whole life, he’s always been incredibly good with her.
On our last visit to visit him and his wife, Lark, at their home in Monaco, Jack took her out in a practice car—completely strapped in and going way too fast for my comfort.
I’d half hoped it might finally curb some of that thrill-seeking instinct, but she only got out more determined to go faster.
Much to my horror and Jack’s absolute delight.
“You’re racing too, right?” Emma asks me as we approach the front of the line.
“I was planning to watch,” I say, eyeing the tiny vehicles.
“Absolutely not. You’re racing.” She’s already pulling me forward by the arm, her fingers warm through my sleeve. “Come on, Midnight. When’s the last time you did something just because it was fun?”
I can’t actually remember.
“Alright, alright,” I laugh, letting her pull me forward. “You’ve made your point.”
Chloe lights up. “Yay, Daddy’s racing!” Then her expression turns serious. “But don’t expect me to go easy on you just because you’re old.”
“Old?” I protest.
“Ooh, burn,” Emma says.
“Prepare to go down,” Chloe says solemnly.
I laugh. “Alright, despite the slander, I’ll still get the tickets.”
I hand cash to the attendant, who waves us toward the karts.
Chloe takes off running toward the pink one with Emma right behind her.
Chloe gets there first by half a step and they both laugh, Emma holding up her hands in defeat.
I can’t keep the smile off my face watching them together.
Something about seeing them like this—competitive and joyful and completely at ease with each other—makes my chest feel too full.
I grab the blue kart and fold myself into it, my knees practically jamming into my chest. Emma slides into the red one next to me with far more grace. Chloe’s already adjusting her mirrors and checking her seatbelt with the seriousness of a professional driver before a race.
“Try to keep up, Dad,” she says sweetly.
“I’m going to destroy both of you,” Emma announces, revving her engine for emphasis.
The attendant walks down the line checking seatbelts, then heads back to the starting line and raises the flag. My heart’s actually beating faster. When’s the last time I felt this? This buzz of anticipation for something that’s just... fun?
The flag drops.
It’s chaos. Chloe is shockingly good, which shouldn’t really be a shock.
She takes the first turn perfectly, leaning into it like she’s been doing this her whole life.
Emma lacks Chloe’s experience, but she makes up for it in pure, fearless determination.
She cuts the first corner too tight and nearly spins out, but only laughs, unbothered.
They’re both laughing hysterically as we whip around the course, and I’m fighting to keep up, my competitive side kicking in harder than I expected. And then I realize I’m laughing too, enough that my face hurts from smiling so much.
By the time we cross the finish line and climb out of the karts, we’re all breathless and flushed. Chloe’s hair has come completely out of her ponytail, Emma’s sweater is askew, and I’m pretty sure I pulled something in my back trying to maneuver that tiny vehicle.
“That was amazing!” Chloe shouts, bouncing on her toes.
“I almost had you on that last turn,” Emma says, pointing at Chloe accusingly.
“You were like three kart-lengths behind me,” Chloe counters, grinning.
“I was lulling you into a false sense of security,” Emma says, making Chloe giggle, then turns to me. “You were actually pretty good for someone who claimed he was just going to watch.”
“I have a competitive streak,” I admit, still catching my breath. “Apparently.”
“Clearly.” She laughs.
We wander after that, no particular destination, just letting Chloe lead us from booth to booth.
The sun is warm on my face, and there’s this easy rhythm to walking beside Emma while Chloe bounces ahead of us, pointing out everything that catches her attention.
We stop at the kettle corn vendor and I buy a bag that’s way too big. We all eat from it as we walk.
Chloe gets distracted by everything—a golden retriever in a hot dog costume that she absolutely has to pet, someone’s elaborate pumpkin carving display with jack-o-lanterns that must have taken hours, the face painting booth where she stops so abruptly I almost run into her.
“Can I get my face painted?” she asks, already pulling me toward it.
“Go for it,” I say.
She climbs into the chair and describes in elaborate detail exactly which colors she wants and where, gesturing at her cheek like she’s giving architectural blueprints. The artist nods along patiently, and I catch Emma watching the whole exchange with a soft smile.
When Chloe’s done, she’s got a butterfly on her cheek in purple and blue and gold, and she’s admiring it in the hand mirror the artist gives her. “Do you like it, Daddy?”
“It’s perfect,” I tell her.
We keep walking, passing game booths with barkers calling out their pitches, trying to lure people in with promises of easy wins and giant prizes.
Chloe stops in front of a booth with bottles stacked in a pyramid, baseballs lined up on the counter, prizes hanging from the awning.
Her eyes lock onto a purple bear almost as big as she is, displayed prominently in the top row.
“Can you win me that one, Daddy? Please?” She’s pointing at it, bouncing on her toes.
I pull out my wallet and hand over cash to the teenager running the booth. I pick up the first baseball and wind up. It goes wide, clipping the edge of the bottles without knocking anything down.
Emma and Chloe both burst out laughing behind me.
“Warm-up throw,” I say, turning around. “Obviously.”
“Sure it was,” Emma says, nudging Chloe.
Chloe giggles. I shake my head at them both, then turn back and grab the next ball. I focus on the center of the pyramid, wind up, and throw. This one connects perfectly, bottles scattering in every direction with a satisfying crash.
I resist the urge to pump my fist and settle for a satisfied nod as I turn back to them. Emma’s grinning and clapping her hands together, and Chloe’s already jumping up and down.
The teenager announces I’ve won a prize with all the enthusiasm of someone who’s seen this scenario play out fifty times today.
He uses a long hook to pull down the purple bear, and Chloe scrambles forward to grab it the second it’s within reach, wrapping both arms around it in a fierce hug.
The thing is almost as big as she is, its purple fur already getting crushed in her grip.
“Thank you, Daddy!” She looks up at me with pure joy on her face, and the thought that I ever considered staying at the restaurant to finish invoices instead of this seems absolutely ridiculous.
“You’re welcome, kiddo,” I say.
“Theo! Chloe!”
I turn toward Maren’s voice and spot her and Calvin making their way through the crowd. My brother raises a hand in greeting and I wave back.
Chloe takes off running before I can say anything, clutching the bear against her side. “Maren! Uncle Calvin!” She crashes into Maren for a hug and Maren catches her with a laugh, swinging her slightly. Calvin ruffles her hair affectionately.
Emma shifts beside me, and I’m suddenly very aware that this looks like the three of us came here together. As a unit. Like a family outing. I clear my throat and shove my hands in my pockets, feeling like a teenager who got caught doing something he shouldn’t.
“Hey!” I say, walking toward them with Emma. “Didn’t expect to see you two here. When you mentioned a date day, I assumed Seattle or Port Townsend like usual.”
Maren pulls me into a hug. “Ordinarily, but fall is my favorite season. There wasn’t a chance I was missing this.” She gestures at the festival around us, the colors and the chaos and the autumn everything.
Calvin pulls me into a quick one-armed hug, then releases me. “Besides, great research for Maren’s next book.” He looks at her adoringly, then glances between Emma and me with a raised eyebrow that he thankfully keeps to himself.
At least it’s Calvin and not Jack. If it were Jack, this would already be in the group chat with something like “brEAKING: Theo spotted with actual woman. Repeat, this is not a drill.” Out of all my brothers, Calvin is the least likely to make a thing out of it.
Maren turns to Emma with a warm smile. “So good to see you again, Emma! Did you all come together?” She glances between us, Chloe still attached to her side.
It comes out sounding completely normal and harmless, but I catch the faintest spark of interest in her eyes. Maren misses nothing.
“Yeah, we did,” I say, glancing at Emma. Behind her bright smile, I think I catch a hint of nervousness. Or maybe I’m projecting. “It just kind of worked out that way. Emma, this is my brother Calvin. Calvin, this is Chloe’s teacher, Emma.”
Calvin extends his hand. “Great to meet you properly. Maren mentioned running into you at the bar the other day.”
“Same here,” Emma says, shaking his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about the Midnight brothers. You guys are basically town royalty from what I can tell.”
Calvin winces. “God, I hope that’s not true.”
Maren grins and bumps her shoulder against his. “Nothing makes him happier than being the center of attention.”
“She’s being sarcastic,” Calvin says to Emma, completely deadpan. “I’m a writer. I hide in rooms and make things up for a living. Attention is my worst nightmare.”
“It’s true,” Maren says, slipping her hand into his. “He’d be perfectly happy if no one ever recognized him and he could just write books in peace.” She looks up at him with obvious affection. “Lucky for him, I handle all the socializing for both of us.”
“She’s much better at it than I am,” Calvin agrees, squeezing her hand. “I just stand next to her and nod.”
Emma laughs. “Well, in any case, it’s nice to meet another one of the famous Midnight brothers. You’re only the second one I’ve encountered, though I’ve seen clips of Jack on YouTube.”
“Theo’s the most well-adjusted out of all of us,” Calvin says, “so you’re starting at the top. It only gets worse from here.”
“Translation: I’m boring,” I say to Emma, who laughs.
“Stable,” Calvin corrects. “Reliable. The one we all call when something goes wrong.”
Chloe, who’s been patiently enduring the adult conversation while clutching her purple bear, finally reaches her limit. “Can we go on more rides now? Please?”
“The boss has spoken,” Maren says, reaching for Chloe’s free hand. “Lead the way, Miss Midnight.”
We end up walking through the festival together for the next hour, trying different rides, winning more prizes at the game booths, stuffing our faces with kettle corn and caramel apples.
Emma fits in easily with Calvin and Maren, so easily it catches me off guard.
The conversation flows naturally, full of laughter and teasing, like the five of us have been hanging out together for years instead of just meeting.
I watch Emma with my family. The way she listens when Calvin talks about his writing, asks Maren questions about the bar that show she’s actually paying attention. The way she includes Chloe in every conversation, never talking over her or dismissing her the way some adults do with kids.
And she fits. That’s the part that scares me.
By the time sunset approaches, Calvin and Maren head back to Dark River. But Emma, Chloe, and I stay. We ride the small roller coaster twice, Chloe screaming with delight, Emma laughing beside her, me gripping the safety bar and trying not to look down.
We share a funnel cake that gets powdered sugar everywhere, including on Emma’s nose, which she doesn’t notice until Chloe points it out and they both dissolve into giggles.
We go through the corn maze even though Chloe’s starting to fade, her steps slowing, the purple bear dragging on the ground beside her.
By the time we’re driving home, Chloe’s sound asleep in the back seat, mouth open, the bear tucked under her arm. Emma’s put on her playlist, something acoustic and mellow, and she’s humming softly, watching the trees blur past in the darkness.
The dashboard lights cast her profile in soft blue, and I catch myself glancing over more than I should. The slope of her nose. The way her lips move when she hums. The strand of hair that’s fallen across her cheek.
Today might have been the most fun I’ve had in years. And I’m trying hard to ignore the fact that a large reason for that is sitting in my passenger seat, completely at ease, like she belongs there.
Like maybe she’s always belonged there.