We Have Till Monday

August chuckled. “Even if you change the menu every season, it gets old after a while.”

Having experienced his cooking, I had doubts.

“Do you still work in any of your restaurants?” I asked.

“Not very often.” He slid me the next thing he wanted to try, a cheese-filled piece of sausage and some mustard-dipped pretzel. “I hit a wall about three years ago, and it’s been a slow recovery ever since. I’m lucky to able to move at whatever pace I’m comfortable with. I’m still only at fifty percent.”

I’d had no idea. I wouldn’t even have guessed it.

Camden reached up and stroked August’s cheek, and he turned and kissed the inside of Camden’s hand. It was a sweet exchange and shot a bout of longing into me, and it made me want to take care of August. I couldn’t help it. I was so goddamn drawn to him.

This explained Camden’s urge to hunt down someone who would complete their dynamic, though. He was very aware of his own limitations for the times he regressed, and he wanted his Daddy to have someone to lean on when Camden wasn’t able to be that person.

“But to be frank, I’m enjoyin’ my schedule now,” August went on. “I do my monthly videos to stay current online—and to keep Clara off my back—I still create all the menus with my head chefs, I agree to these dog and pony shows every now and then, and I keep busy with other side projects.”

“Daddy’s gonna write a book about seafood culture and traditions next year.” Camden chimed in.

“Oh yeah?” I took a swig of my beer and faced August, wanting to hear more.

He smiled a little and broke off a piece of pretzel. “Southern cookin’ may be where I started, but I love seafood. My fusion place in Seattle, MAT at the Sea, mixes Southern cuisine with northwestern seafood culture.”

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.”