“In a MINUTE!” came his reply from the bathroom, complete with a crash as he knocked something off of the counter. “IT’S OKAY!”
It was probably the soap bottle, which had survived worse.
Bruno was more nervous for mini golf than he’d been for the dinner date and when he stopped to examine why, he realized that he desperately wanted Clarice to like Gil.
As a single dad, he had to consider not just how someone new might suit him, but how they would fit with his family.
And Gil was a lot, even when he wasn’t randomly turning into an armadillo. He was loud, energetic, and full of five-year-old sass. He could askwhyfor hours, forgot what he’d been told five minutes ago, and figured that rules were just general guidelines.
He was also compassionate, funny, smart, and astonishinglyhonest. Bruno wasn’t sure if it was because Bruno usually knew when someone was lying, or if Gil was just naturally truthful. Whenever he did something wrong, he was the first to admit it, even if he knew there would be consequences.
Honesty was a tricky topic with shifters. How candid could you be when half of your entire self had to be kept strictly a secret from most people?
Bruno didn’t want to keep secrets from Clarice. He was going to have to come clean with her. But not if they didn’t have a future together. And having a future together hinged on Gil, because Bruno’s first, unfailing loyalty was to his son.
“Gil, we’re going to be LATE!”
“I’M WASHING MY HANDS!”
“You’ve been washing your hands forten minutes!” Bruno knew that it had turned to play at some point. He also knew that Gil would quote how important hygiene was back at him to excuse the dawdling.
“ALMOST!”
Bruno wasn’t sure if he meant almost ten minutes or that he was almost ready. He looked at his watch again. His habit of trying to get them out the door five minutes early usually gave them enough of a buffer for the inevitable dragging of feet, but Gil had taken longer than usual getting dressed.
“Don’t youwantto go golfing with Miss Clarice?”
“MY HANDS ARE STILL WET!”
Bruno finally got Gil into his jacket, out the door, and buckled into his booster seat. It had snowed overnight, and the streets had not been plowed, so he had to drive slower than he’d accounted for. They arrived five minutes after four and Clarice was already there, stompingsnow from her feet in front of the door to the warehouse that had been repurposed for indoor golf.
To Bruno’s relief, she looked much more normal than she had for their date. She was wearing a fur-trimmed knit hat and a puffy down parka. When she took off the hat inside, she lost one of her barrettes and had to put it back in. Without a mirror, a strand of hair escaped her notice and made an untidy loop that was absolutely perfectly absurd and Bruno didn’t want her to fix it.
“Can I have a HOT DOG?” Gil wanted to know, staring at the concession stand near the entrance.
“You just ate lunch,” Bruno reminded him.
“I’m a growing boy,” Gil complained. “Bottomless PIT. Hollow EGG.”
“Leg. Hollow leg.”
“Legs aren’t hollow! Eggs are! When you eat them! Because you’re HUNGRY!”
Clarice laughed warmly and shrugged at Bruno. “He’s got a point.”
They each got a club and ball, as well as a course map. There were lockers where they left their outerwear and Clarice locked up her purse. Even with the cost of renting the locker and buying overpriced concessions, it would be a more economical date than the expensive dinner had been.
And to Bruno’s relief, Clarice seemed even more comfortable than she had been at the restaurant. She laughed and joked with Gil like they’d been friends for years, though she occasionally turned to Bruno for translation assistance. “Oh, yogurt!”
“That’s what I SAID. YOGRET!”
“I can see yogurt being a regret if you don’t like it,” Clarice said in an aside to Bruno that made him snort laughter and miss his shot.
Gil was terrible at golf and Clarice was better than she’d claimed. Bruno spent more time chasing Gil’s ball than he did hitting his own, and they had to get a replacement when it rolled under some equipment further than Bruno could reach with a club.
The game didn’t seem to drag, although they took so long going through it that several other players passed them. The lighting was terrible, partly to mask the fact that they were in an industrial warehouse, and the flashing neon lights and LED-lit runways left faces in dramatic shadows. At one point, he and Clarice bumped shoulders, and it was very natural to take her hand as they walked to the next hole.
Gil covered any gaps in their conversation with non-stop observations and they stopped keeping score halfway through.
