A Missed Opportunity

40

❃𝙺𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚊❃

So, here's the thing about living with a eight-year-old kid in the house. There's a limited amount of things I can do that I used to be able to do in my little apartment in my college days. For one, I can't really just walk around in just a t-shirt and my underwear.

I mean—I could, but I'd hear a lot of screeching while my son pretends like he's melting into the ground, desperately begging for me to put some pants on.

I also have to limit the amount of candy and stuff I eat. Unless I want to share it, of course. Which I don't want to do. I mean, who wants to share their candy?

Obviously, with all of that, the best part of not having that eight-year-old home is the fact that I can do all of that without complaints. Even more than that, really. Like sitting freely, wrapped up in my towel and nothing else on the couch while I air dry for the first time in eight-freakin'-years while watching the crime show I refuse to watch while he's around.

It's glorious, let me tell you.

Back in our little town, I didn't get to have many nights like these. Cameron didn't have sleepovers at his friend's houses, and I didn't have any family around to send him to. So, I mostly stuck with doing what I wanted while he was asleep or while he was having a play date with his friends.

I relish the time I have here gratefully, grinning to myself even though a smooth, male voice is explaining how this lady murdered her husband for the insurance money.

Apparently, you never really can trust someone. More than half of these stories showcase family members or friends against each other. It's morbid and depressing, but it's all facts placed in front of you like this. It's all hard to ignore.

What's also hard to ignore is the knocking on the door right in the middle of the show. I groan and go limp on the couch, silently debating on letting the dick who's ruining my night just stand there. For whatever reason though, I decide against it and get up off the couch to head to the door. My show still goes on while I do, I figure it'll only take a second.

I should've paused it though. Noah ends up being the dick who made me get up from the couch. I'm too surprised to see him to find it in me to glare. "Noah," I greet on an exhale.

His brows raise and his eyes drop. "Do you always answer the door like this?" I quickly look down at myself, standing in front of him in just a blue towel and with damp hair. "Shit, I gotta come around more often."

I purse my lips and bring my hands to my chest to ensure the towel doesn't fall. "Why're you here?"

He shrugs. "Wanted to see you and Cam." He's done this before—shown up unannounced before and after the sun goes down. It's never been a problem, so I can't really be mad at him this time.

I sigh as I lean against the door that I don't really open all the way. "Cameron's at his grandma's."

He frowns. "Oh," He acknowledges, not bothering to keep the disappointment out of his voice. His eyes drift over my head like he'll be able to see inside. His gaze turns skeptical when his eyes slowly drift back to mine. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why's he at your moms? I thought she couldn't handle him like that anymore."

"She missed him."

For some reason, he doesn't look like he believes me. His eyes drift over my head again. "Are you..." He pauses. "Is somebody here?"

I blink at that. Then laugh at the absurdity of the question. "What?" I laugh in his face. He doesn't really laugh with me. "No! Why would you ask me that?"