The Guy on the Left (The Underdogs, #2)(104)

“Hey, man, there’s a line back here,” a guy grumbles from behind us.

Dante looks over to where the man stands, his smile fading slightly. Troy is the first to speak, turning back.

“You’ll get your turn. He’s almost got the hang of it. Chill out.”

“Seriously? He’s not getting the hang of it. Sometime today, guy.”

Troy glares back at the man, nothing but warning in his eyes.

“Troy, don’t,” I whisper.

Parker speaks up. “Are you really going to be that jerk that deprives a kid of a good time?”

The guy scours Parker’s appearance, a smug smirk on his face. He looks to be in his mid-twenties and straight off the set of a rerun of Jersey Shore. “I see you talking, but all I hear is moo, moo, moo, moo, moo. I mean, are you really one to talk about deprivation? It looks like you haven’t deprived yourself of a meal ever.”

My breath catches in my throat as Troy’s fist slams into his face, and he goes down in a wordless heap.

Gasps sound around us as Troy throws a twenty on the table, grabs a bag of ready cotton candy, lifts his son from where he stands motionless, and calmly walks away. Stunned, Parker and I silently follow him out of the carnival and into the parking lot.

“Sorry, bud,” Troy says to Dante, securing him into his seat.

“Can you teach me how to punch?” Dante askes, his eyes still wide, his face stained with the blue cotton candy.

Troy sighs. “I shouldn’t have done that. You know that, right? It’s not okay to hit.”

“I’m glad you punched him. He was mean to Auntie Parker.”

“That’s not what you do,” Troy says, clicking his seatbelt. He hands him a bottled water from the cooler he’d made, full of Dante’s favorite snacks. Too shocked to speak, I pile into the truck next to him while Parker, just as speechless, climbs in next to Dante.

“I’m sorry we had to leave,” Troy offers to everyone in the truck before turning the ignition.

“It’s okay, Daddy. You’re not the bad guy,” Dante says, assuring his father of the truth as I try not to lose my shit sitting next to him.

The ride home is filled with Dante’s musings on the situation. Troy patiently answers all of his questions as I reach back, holding out my hand for Parker, who I know, is quietly crying behind me, humiliated.

She squeezes my hand and lets go as I sit helpless, wanting to talk to her, to tell her she’s beautiful. To tell her misery loves company, and that bastard saw happiness and confidence, not her weight. It was her light he wanted to dim.

But I can’t because I’ll only embarrass her further. The tension is palpable as Troy pulls in the driveway and turns back to address Parker after throwing his truck into park. His beautiful blue eyes sincere as he speaks.

“The first thing I thought when I looked at you, aside from fear you would rip me to shreds, was that you have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen and the face to match. That’s the first thing I thought about you, Parker. It’s the truth. You’re beautiful. Truly. So please don’t let that asshole make you feel differently.” And with that, he gets out of the truck, collects his son, and makes his way toward the house.

Mouth gaping, I turn back to see Parker smiling through her tears. “And this is the man you didn’t want raising your son?” She looks back the way Troy retreated and then turns to me. “You think I have a shot with him?”

Tears gather in my eyes. “I’m so in love with him.”

“Well, that definitely puts a kink in my plans.”

“Do you think I still have a chance?”

“I saw the way he looked at you today. That’s not infatuation, Clarissa.”

“Parker, would you—”

“On it.”

She hops out of the truck and makes a beeline for Troy, taking Dante from his arms before kissing Troy’s cheek and walking Dante to her car. Troy stares on in disbelief turning back to me, his posture deflated, he walks into the house, the screen door slapping behind him. I follow on his heels, as he stands in the living room, his back to me, fuming, no doubt doing a mental count to ten, before he turns to me, arms crossed.

“Was that really necessary? I apologized. I know that wasn’t the right thing to—what are you doing?”

I drop my purse and slowly lift my T-shirt before unfastening my bra.

Troy watches on, the confusion in his eyes turning into heated curiosity.

“You once told me it’s not a story if you give up.” Unsure if this is seduction or idiocy, I exhale my fears and slowly let one side of my bra fall down my shoulder, then the other, before pulling the tie from my hair.

“Clarissa, don’t.” I can hear the pain in his voice, his conflict, as I slowly start to unbuckle my jeans. “I’m going out of my mind. I want us back. And I’ve been a fool, but I can’t handle this anymore. I want this story. I want our story, this life with you so much it’s killing me. I’m not afraid to bare myself to you. You once said you would give me everything if I gave you all of me. I’m hoping that’s still the truth. Because this is all of me. My body, my heart, my life. It’s—”

“Clarissa, stop!”

Undeterred by the bite of his rejection, I seize the moment. It’s my time to prove I will fight for him, as he has for me. It’s time to show him that words aren’t a fool’s gold when spoken from the right heart.