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And, thankfully, Sydney the photographer was available.
Sure, I’d hoped to spend my free Sunday with a good book, but we didn’t always get what we wanted.
It was most definitely going to happen next weekend.
“Shame you can’t enjoy your freedom.”
“I’d only end up catching up on laundry.” I shrugged. “Are you okay here if I finish getting Leo’s stuff together?”
“I can help you.”
“No, it’s fine.” I waved him off. The last thing I wanted was Chris lounging around upstairs in my house and getting too familiar. I wasn’t exactly happy with him being in my kitchen, never mind anywhere else.
I went upstairs and headed into Leo’s room where I’d been packing a bag. I still needed to get all his soccer stuff together, so I grabbed a backpack for those things. Thankfully I’d been on top of his sports laundry this week, so it was an easy job for me to put it all in the backpack and finish up getting everything else ready.
That didn’t mean I didn’t drag it out, though.
I did.
Riiiiight out.
I carried the bags downstairs to where Chris was waiting for me. “Here. This one has his soccer stuff in. It it’s possible, can you please wash it? Otherwise it just stinks the entire house out.”
He took the bag from me. “There’s a washing machine at the rental. I’ll throw it in when he gets home. Shoes, too?”
“No, they’re fine. Just everything else. And make sure he showers. And brushes his teeth—dear God, getting him to brush his teeth properly is like telling a cat to get off the sofa.”
Chris’ lips twitched. “Anything else?”
“No sugar after eight. If you think the morning tooth brushing is hell, try the evening tooth brushing fight. Make sure there’s at least one bottle of miniature hard liquor for that, because you’re gonna need it.”
“Hard liquor. Understood.”
“And he’s, um, still not a big fan of Carrie.”
Chris rubbed his jaw. “Not a problem. Neither am I.”
My eyebrows shot up. “I’m sorry?”
“We broke up,” he said, not looking me in the eye. “I ended it, actually. This week, after we spoke. She was mad I was spending my weekends here with Leo instead of going home and accused me of trying to get back together with you.”
I snorted. “Sorry. That was about the last thing, not your breakup.”
His lips twitched. “I figured.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why? She’s been awkward about it for a while and we’d been having problems, but the complaints about the weekends with Leo was the straw that broke the camel’s back.”
“Especially since she lives with you and your son doesn’t.”
He actually looked mildly ashamed. “Exactly. Anyway, like I said, we’ve been having problems and it was coming.”
I smiled understandingly, even though there was a younger London inside of me yelling, “Ha! Bitch! Serves you right!”
If you couldn’t guess, Carrie was the reason we broke up.
Cheating bastard.
I swallowed back the very immature pettiness I was feeling. Gloating was not becoming on anyone, and if Chris wanted to be cordial, then I wasn’t going to be a bitch.
Not out loud, anyway.
“Well, I’d say I hope you work it out, but I really couldn’t care less.”
All right, I’d be a little bit of a bitch out loud.
To his credit, he fought a smile. “It’s good to see you haven’t changed a bit.”
“I was taught not to lie.” I scooped up his mug with a genuine grin and put it in the sink. “You should probably think about going. The school know you’re picking him up, but Leo thinks you’re getting him after practice.”
“Gotcha.” His eyes sparkled with a glint of happiness. “It’s good to see you, London.”
“Well, don’t get too used to it. I only intend to have fleeting visits from here on.”
Laughing, he got up and gathered up his keys along with Leo’s belongings. “Want him to call you?”
“Only if he wants to. I’m obviously not home tonight like I said, but if he wants to say goodnight, text me and I’ll run outside before bed.”
“He’ll want to call you.”
“I know. Bed no later than ten, okay?” I followed him to the door. “Or eleven-thirty at least. I know what you’re like.”
“Popcorn and whatever movie marathon he wants? No, not me.” Chris stepped outside with a laugh, and I joined him on the driveway. “We both know he’ll fall asleep on the sofa at nine-thirty and I’ll have to carry him to bed.”
“True.” That was his party trick. “Well, have fun, and don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything.”
“London, I can manage.”
“I know you can.” I looked up at him. “But I might have forgotten something, so I can always bring it or meet you or—”
“London.” He rested his hands on my shoulders. “I promise I’ll call you in the highly unlikely event that you’ve forgotten something or if he’s missing you and just wants to talk, all right?”
