Page 89 of A Simple Regret

She looks concerned at first, then realization sets in. “Mad that he snapped a picture or sent it to you?”

I crack a smile. “Either.”

“No to both,” she states. “He was a big part of my high school years right along with you, so him taking a picture of me holding his baby doesn’t bother me.”

“Mommy, pway,” Theo says.

Maren climbs down onto the floor and parks it right next to where I sit. For the next thirty minutes or so, we play with blocks, cars, and whatever else Theo goes and retrieves from the toy basket for us.

Finally, I glance at my watch and know it’s time to start dinner. “Theo, I’m going to make dinner. Do you still want to help?”

“Yep!” he proclaims, jumping up and running to the kitchen.

Maren smiles and shakes her head. “I’ve never seen him so eager to help in the kitchen before.”

I stand up and extend a hand to help her up. “I think it’s great to have those skills or at least be willing to assist.”

“Absolutely,” she replies, wrapping her arm around my waist. “And having good role models in his life is a huge plus.”

I hope she’s referring to me, because I realize instantly that’s what I want to be. A role model, a father figure, someone Theo can come to for anything.

Entering the kitchen, I go straight to the fridge to retrieve the ingredients needed to start the sloppy joes. “Can I help?” Maren asks.

“How are you with arranging tater tots on a baking tray?” I ask.

“Excellent,” she says with a chuckle.

“While you do that, I’ll chop the veggies and get everything ready for the pan.”

We work in unison, preparing our meal, and when the tater tots go in the oven, I insist Maren has a seat at the table to relax. “I’ve got this, Shortcake.”

“Ortcake,” Theo says softly, making his mom and me smile.

“Come on, little dude, you can sit on the counter while I cook the meat, but you have to stay back. This meat makes grease, and that grease can splatter and burn you. All right?”

“Okay.”

I spend the next twenty minutes preparing the meat mixture. When it’s complete, I pull the tots from the oven and place them on the stovetop beside the pan of meat. I bought slider buns because they are smaller and perfect for Theo’s little hands and mouth, and also grabbed some sliced cheese.

“Ladies first,” I announce, pulling three paper plates out of the cabinet and setting them on the counter.

“Wadies fwirst.”

Maren gets up and walks toward the counter. She ruffles her son’s hair as she passes, scooping a small pile of tots onto the plate and making herself a sandwich.

“Have a seat. I’ll get Theo’s plate,” I tell her, retrieving lemonade from the fridge and pouring two glasses. “Theo, go get your cup.”

He runs into the living room and comes back with his cup. The sound of his feet on the floor, his laughter in the air, his arms wrapped around me when he hugs, it’s all music to my ears. Right here is the only place I want to be.

I set his cup down on the table and lift him into my arms. I place him on the counter and make his plate before moving him to his booster seat and putting his food down in front of him. Maren squeezes a blob of ketchup onto his plate and he dives in, scooping up the tomato sauce with a piece of potato.

“You got everything you need?” I ask Maren before making my own plate.

“Yes, thank you. Eat, Cam.”

“Eat!” Theo bellows.

“Yes, sir and ma’am,” I state, grabbing the third plate and making my food. I put two sandwiches together and add a pile of tots before joining them at the table.