Page 5 of A Simple Regret

“I’m moving in.” Isn’t that obvious?

“I see that,” he states with annoyance, crossing his arms over his chest. “No, what are you doing here, in Cooper Town?”

My cheeks heat, and even though I’m incredibly uncomfortable to be standing here, I refuse to let it show. I hold my head up high and answer, “I moved home.”

He doesn’t say anything, not right away. Seconds turn into a minute, then two. I used to be able to tell what he’s thinking, but now? Now, I don’t know the man standing before me, even if I knew him better than I knew myself at one time. A long time ago.

Two very different people.

A car door pulls our attention toward the roadway, and even though I can’t see around the trailer, I assume it’s our dinner arriving. One of the first things I did when we made our way to Cooper Town is look up the phone number for Mario’s Pizza. It was my favorite spot back when I was a kid, and my mouth was watering the entire drive here thinking about it.

Before I can excuse myself to break this incredibly awkward exchange and head back inside with the tote of toys I promised to retrieve, the back door flies open. “Mommy! Pizza!”

Since I’m looking directly at Camden, I don’t miss the shock that washes over his features at the sudden appearance of my son. I try to ignore how good Cam looks, instead focusing on the fact he just found out I have a three-year-old. After approximately seven years, he’s seeing me for the first time and discovering I have a child.

Talk about an awkward situation.

“I’ll be right in, sweetheart,” I holler, taking a massive sigh of relief when Theo runs back inside instead of coming to help me retrieve his toys. Clearing my throat, I say, “I should go.”

He nods sharply, his blue eyes wide in disbelief. “Yeah. Better get back inside to your family.” There’s a touch of a bite in his tone, and even though he doesn’t say it, I catch the insinuation he’s made. Worse, I don’t correct him. I can’t. Right now I just need space and air and maybe a shot of Jack.

“Have a good evening,” I state, carefully stepping off the ramp on the trailer and making my way to the house. I feel eyes on me, but I don’t turn around. I just keep putting one foot in front of the other and doing everything I can not to trip up the back steps.

The moment I’m inside the house, I take a deep breath. I close my eyes and lean against the wall, willing my pounding heart to slow.

“Pizza!”

I open my eyes and paste on a bright smile. “Papa got the pizza?” I ask my son, who is pulling out his chair and ready to climb up. “Wait, let me help you.”

“I do it!” he proclaims, trying to shimmy up the chair to sit in the booster.

I exhale, shaking my head, as I place the tote of toys on the floor.

“Dinner is served,” Dad announces with a smile as he joins us in the living room and sets the pizza box in the middle of the small kitchen table.

I move to the counter and grab a few paper plates before stopping at the fridge and pulling out a juice box for Theo. “Here you go,” I say, setting the plates on the table and ripping the plastic from the straw and sticking it into the little box. “Don’t squeeze it.”

Theo giggles, taking the small box of apple juice and sipping.

Dad pulls a slice of pizza from the box and puts it on the plate before offering it to his grandson. “Cut up?”

“Nope!” Theo insists, grabbing the pizza and taking a bite from the side.

“Independent like his mom,” Dad says with a fond grin.

“I like to call it stubborn,” I say, returning to the fridge and pulling two bottles of water from the top shelf.

Dad’s laughter is like music to my ears. “Everything go okay outside?”

“Yeah, sorry. Thanks for grabbing the pizza,” I state, removing the lid from my water and taking a sip.

“No problem. Help yourself,” he offers, holding out a plate.

I grab two pieces, my mouth filling with saliva as I prepare to enjoy my first slice of Mario’s in far too long. “I, uh, met my neighbor.”

Dad’s eyes find mine, a mixture of sadness and guilt written heavily in his blue eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask quietly, watching my son enjoy his pizza.