Page 96 of Ink Me Three Times
I close my eyes for a second. Let the moment settle. It’s embarrassing, sure, but it’s also… weirdly comforting. Too comforting.
Because these guys, these impossible, sweet, infuriating men, aren’t giving me space to spiral. They’re just here. Holding space. Holding me, in all the ways that count.
It makes my throat tighten.
“Okay,” I say finally, cracking the can of ginger ale. “Five minutes. Then I’m back on my feet like a dramatic Victorian woman who briefly took ill at the garden party.”
Freddie squeezes my hand. “Deal.”
Timothy nods, already reaching for the trail mix like he’s about to create a snack based recovery protocol.
And Mitchell? He just smirks and goes, “Make it seven. You look like you’re about to see Jesus.”
Once I recover, Penny grabs my hand and practically yanks me toward the kids’ area, where the madness of the convention seems slightly more… manageable.
It’s a small section, tucked into a corner, and blessedly quieter. There’s a bouncy castle, a face painting booth, and a kid’s craft corner that probably smells like glitter and glue, just the way kids like it.
Penny, of course, is in her element. Her little legs can’t keep still, and if there’s a person in her line of sight, she’s on them faster than a squirrel on a sugar rush.
“Hi! I like your hair!” she says to a heavily tattooed woman in a leather jacket, who just blinks at her in surprise before laughing.
I’m over here, trying not to feel like an awkward giraffe in a room full of unicorns, but it’s hard when Penny is over herebreaking down social barriers one enthusiastic greeting at a time.
"She’scharming," I say to the woman, who raises an eyebrow, and I’m suddenlythatperson who hangs out with the weirdly confident toddler.
“Let’s go see the snacks!” Penny says, and that’s all the permission I need to follow her on this little sugar fueled adventure.
We wander past booths filled with all kinds of tempting treats. Penny is pointing at everything like she’s on a scavenger hunt for candy.
“I want that one!” she says, jabbing her finger at a cotton candy stand like she’s just discovered the Holy Grail of sweets.
I crouch down beside her. “Okay, sure, but we gotta make a deal,” I say, trying to be the responsible adult here. “If we’re getting cotton candy, we’re sharing, got it?”
She glares at me like I’ve just asked her to sacrifice her favorite toy to the candy gods. “Share?! It’smycandy,” she protests, hands on hips. “But I guess I’ll share with you. A little.”
I can’t help but laugh. “You’re a tough negotiator.”
We get the cotton candy, and it’s the size of her head. I end up holding it like it’s a toddler sized cloud, and Penny’s hands are already sticky from tearing into it like it’s the last one on earth.
We take our time walking through the booths, and every few steps, she’s pulling me toward something new: a shiny balloon, a plush toy that’s probably more than my entire grocery bill, and then a stack of sparkly stickers.
“I wantthatone!” she declares, pointing at a candy bracelet booth. It’s a good thing she’s three, because I’m pretty sure if anyone else said that with the level of enthusiasm she has, I’d be forced to call in backup.
“Penny, if we keep going like this, we’re gonna need a sugar coma nap by 3,” I tease, glancing over at the bouncy castle wherea group of toddlers are jumping around like they’ve had ten shots of espresso.
“No! I want to bounce!” she says, jumping in place, somehow making it look like a mini dance move.
By the time we’ve reached the bouncy castle, my stomach is full of sugar and regret, but Penny is practically vibrating with energy. She grabs my hand and pulls me toward the inflatable fortress of doom. “You’re gonna bounce with me, right?”
“Uh, well…” I glance at the chaos unfolding inside the castle. Toddlers are flying through the air like tiny, uncoordinated rockets. “I’m not sure I’m built for this,” I admit.
But Penny, of course, doesn’t take no for an answer. “Yes you are! I’ll teach you how to bounce!”
I sigh dramatically, pretending to weigh my options. “Fine, I’ll bounce,” I say. “But only because I don’t want to be out tiggered by a three year old.”
She gives me the most serious look I’ve ever seen on such a small human. “You’re going to be the best bouncer ever.”
And just like that, I find myself leaping,leaping, mind you, into the bouncy castle with Penny, who is now an expert at making sure I don’t look too ridiculous. She bounces around like a pro while I try not to fall over like the giant, uncoordinated mess that I am.
