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“I'm putting laundry away. What's wrong?”

“Why does something have to be wrong?”

“Because you're calling me.”

“I call you.”

“You text me. Calls mean either somebody died, Simon did something, or you're spiraling.”

“Those are not my only categories.”

“Which one is it?”

“None.”

“Bullshit. But, fine.”

I climb into the bath. The water is borderline too hot, exactly how I like it. I sink down until it reaches my shoulders.

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“This bath is amazing.”

“You called me to tell me you're taking a bath?”

I close my eyes. “Simon sent me upstairs to relax.”

“Must be nice.” Jamie mumbles under her breath.

“Theo’s been awful today,” I say before correcting myself. “He's not awful. Today was awful.”

“I know what you meant.”

“Everything was a fight. It's getting worse.” I trail my fingers through the bubbles. “He's clingy. He's having more tantrums. He's waking up at night again. If Simon leaves, he wants to know exactly where he's going and when he's coming back. If I leave, same thing.”

“That's probably all the changes.”

“That's what we think.”

“Poor guy.”

“Yeah.” I swallow. “I told Simon I want to find a therapist for him after Christmas.”

“For Theo?”

“Yeah. Play therapy or something.”

“I think that's a good idea.”

“Me too.”

“Hudson did a few sessions after his dad and I were having all that shit. He liked it. Half the time he thought he was just playing with some lady who had better toys than me.”

“That sounds perfect.”

“It helped me too. She'd tell me things he was struggling with without violating his trust. Like, not what he specifically said, but things we could work on at home.”