Page 7 of The P Arrangement

Frowning,I sighed down at my food and shook my head.

“Mommy okay?”

“Yeah, buddy,” I lied.

Preston getting up from the table so soon had brought back memories of the time before I left him. I was trying hard to move on, but it was difficult when he reminded me of my hurt and anger.

But dwelling on that would get me nowhere, so I forced a smile for my son. “I get to eat Clara’s yummy food. How could I not be okay?”

And the food truly was delicious. Obviously, losing my husband and best friend had been a huge blow, but I sure missed Clara and her excellent cooking too.

“Yummy, yummy,” Paxton said with a giggle.

I grabbed a napkin from the holder on the table and couldn’t help but chuckle, too, because the kid had sauce all over his face.

“All done,” he said, showing me his bowl.

It was empty.

“Good job. Do you want any more?”

“No. Want milk.”

I handed his glass to him and finished off my own pasta. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him trying to put his milk back on the table, and almost as if in slow motion, it fell over and spilled everywhere.

“Oh shit,” I yelped, jumping up from the table to grab Paxton.

But it was too late. He was already covered in milk.

I hadn’t even realized Preston had seen what happened until he brought over a towel to soak up the spill, and I was almost startled by the smile on his face.

“Oh, buddy, you made a mess.”

Paxton laughed. “I messy.”

“Yeah, you are,” I told him. If we were at home, I knew exactly what I would do. “Do you care if I take him upstairs and give him a bath?” I asked my ex.

“Or should we just throw the kid out and start all over?” Preston paused in his wiping off the table and grinned up at me.

I was stunned at him joking with me, so it took me a couple of seconds to tease back. “Tempting, but we’ve already put almost three years of work into this one.”

Maybe I had jumped to conclusions before, when he got up from the table so soon. Maybe he really had wanted to clean up.

Preston picked up the drenched towel and held it over his cupped hand in case it dripped. As he made his way over to the sink, he said, “Go give him a bath while I clean up here.” As I headed out, he added, “I usually put him in the tub in our room. He likes it because it’s bigger.”

I froze, waiting for Preston to realize he had called his bedroomour room, but when I looked back at him, he was busy wringing the milk out of the towel in the sink.

* * *

Sitting on the floor in my old bathroom and watching my son play in the bathtub felt surreal. Truthfully, this whole night had been surreal. I had lived in this house, used this bathroom, slept in the bed out there for more years than my current home. It was supposed to be where my ex and I were going to raise our children. It was no wonder it felt surreal.

“I got the kitchen cleaned up, including Paxton’s seat,” Preston said, walking into the bathroom. He held up two articles of clothing. “Here are Pax’s PJs.” He set them on the counter and leaned against it.

“Oh, good. It’s probably time for him to get out.”

Our son yawned.

“Definitely time for him to get out,” I corrected.

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