Page 15 of The P Arrangement

But the woman I was going on a date with wasn’t the person I was thinking about. And she definitely wasn’t the one I wanted to be with.

I shifted away from my mother so I could adjust my sudden erection in my pants. Just the mere thought of fucking my ex-wife last night had me hard. I’d been trying to not think about her all day, but it had been a struggle, which meant I’d been uncomfortable most of the day. Not that I understood how. I had come in Delaney three times last night. At thirty-eight, I no longer had the stamina I’d had when I was eighteen. Except for maybe when I was around her, it seemed.

“Well, are you going to get ready?”

I groaned. My mother’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard, but at least it was exactly what I needed to get rid of my hard-on.

“Yes, Mother.”

“No need to get—”

“Come on, Pax. It’s time to brush your teeth and go to bed.”

He looked up at me, and I wondered if he was going to be difficult, like he had been last night in the bathtub.

But he said, “Okay,” and put his trucks in his toy box.

“I’ll be back,” I told my mom. “I’m going to put him to bed and change.”

“Take your time.”

Paxton grabbed my hand. “Hi, Gamma,” he said, finally acknowledging her.

“Hello, Paxton,” she said with a bit of disdain that she was not good at hiding.

She was still bothered by the fact that we hadn’t named him Preston Charles St. James IV, but Delaney had been adamant before we even got married that she didn’t want to name any of her children the same as someone else in the family. I didn’t argue because I had never liked being the third.

And with so many things being electronic, I had already seen what happened with sharing a name. My father and I were mixed up all the time. It still happened occasionally even though he had passed away. In the end, I was happy to name our son Paxton Charles. He still got part of his family name but part of his own too. We’d even chosen a similar name to Preston, but my mother wasn’t happy with Paxton.

But at this point in my life, I didn’t really care. Delaney and I weren’t changing his name.

“Let’s go, buddy.”

I took my son upstairs, brushed his teeth, and put him to bed. Then, I forced myself to my bedroom to change clothes when I would rather go to bed. I had not slept enough last night, and I had gotten up way too early when Paxton crawled into my bed.

I was used to him doing that most mornings, but there had been less room with his mother on the other side, and I hadn’t been able to go back to sleep. Paxton was the cutest bed hog, but he was still a bed hog.

I was still a little perturbed that Delaney had snuck out while I was in the shower, especially since I had tried to be nice by bringing her clothes upstairs and starting coffee for her. But on the other hand, I understood why she’d crept out before she had to see me. I hadn’t been the best husband at the end of our marriage.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t change the past. I could only move forward.

And I supposed, even if I was tired, staying up half the night to be inside my ex-wife had been worth it.

I pulled out a pair of black pants and a dark green button-up shirt from my closet and got ready for my date. As I checked my appearance in the mirror, I was sure my mom would say something about me missing a tie, but things were different from when my mother and father had dated. Also, I wore a tie to work every day. If I could skip it on my days off, I was going to.

I still had a couple of minutes before I had to leave, but since I didn’t want to make small talk with my mother, I decided to leave early.

“Mom, I’m taking off,” I said as I walked through the kitchen to the door leading to the garage.

She looked up from her thick leather planner when I entered, but before she could make any remarks on my outfit, I continued, “Paxton is sleeping. He should stay that way. I made sure he didn’t nap too long this afternoon. But if he wakes up, you can call me.”

She put a hand on her hip. “Preston, I have raised a child. I’m sure I can handle putting him back to sleep.”

I held in a snort. My nanny had raised me. I could probably count on two hands the number of times my mother had read me a bedtime story.

While I appreciated Paxton’s nanny, Madison, especially when it came to sharing custody with Delaney, I had been adamant that she wouldn’t live with us. I wanted her to go to her own home each night because I didn’t want her raising our son. She was his caregiver, not his parent.

“I’m sure you can,” I said. “But if you need me, I’ll have my phone on.”

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