“Daddy home.”
“I’m here, bud. You want to come see me?” I ask, holding my arms out for him. He gives me a lazy nod and reaches for me. Standing, I lift him into my arms and snuggle him. He’s warm, but that could just be from the way they were lying, and he smells like the baby lotion we use after his bath and her. “I’m sorry you feel bad,” I tell him.
“He’s not pulling at his ears or complaining of anything. I think it’s just a virus, but I could be wrong.”
“We’ll watch him to see if he gets worse. Our pediatrician is open on Sundays for on-call sick visits only, or I can take him in on Monday.”
“Are you hungry, Cam? How about a popsicle?” she offers.
“Yum,” he says, and we both smile.
“I saw that there were some Pedialyte popsicles in the freezer. I’ll get one. Do you need anything?”
“Not right now, but I plan to dive into the soup in a little bit,” I tell her.
“It was good, but he didn’t eat much of it,” she says, her brow furrowing.
“Thank you for trying. Sloane, you’ve gone out of your way to make him feel better. He doesn’t eat much when he’s not feeling well.”
“I know that about kids, but it’s different when it’s yo—one that you’re close to,” she quickly changes her words. Her eyes soften when she looks at Camden. “I’ll be right back, buddy,” she tells him, and darts off for the kitchen.
She’s back a few minutes later, handing me a bottle of water and offering Camden the popsicle wrapped in a paper towel. Instead of taking it from her, he opens his mouth, and she gives him a bite, which is more like a lick.
“Cold,” he says, and finally sits up in my lap and reaches for the popsicle.
“Thanks for this.” I hold up the water before screwing off the cap and taking a long drink.
“I hope he’s better for trick-or-treating next weekend.”
“I’m sure he will be. Just a little cold, right, bud?” My son ignores me as he sucks on his popsicle.
“Did I tell you that everyone is going with us? And they’re all dressing up?”
“Everyone as in…?”
“I mean, everyone. I even texted Foster and got him on board to come with us as himself. I figured it would be easier to get him to go that way.”
“What’s everyone else dressing up as?”
“Reid, Bellamy, and Coral are going as a momma, daddy, and baby cow.” She grins excitedly. “They’re adorable. Landry and Rowan are going to be peanut butter and jelly,” she says, barely containing her laughter. “It’s hilarious, and the way Landry is always hungry, it’s perfect for them.”
“That’s classic,” I tell her. “Landry is going to play that off perfectly, I’m sure.”
“Right? That’s what we said. Knox and Corie—” She places her hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. “I-It’s the best,” she sputters. “Corie is going as a pregnant housewife. Long dress with an apron, and Knox, he’s going to be the milkman,” she says, her body shaking. “It’s a white hat that says Milkman, and then he’ll be dressed up in a pair of dress pants and a shirt with a tie. It’s too funny.” She giggles.
Camden laughs. It’s soft, but it’s a laugh all the same. “Swoan punny.”
“She is funny.” I smile down at him.
“All done,” he says, handing me his popsicle that he’s barely eaten any of.
“Daddy, book.”
“You ready for bed?” I ask him. His answer is to climb off my lap and grab my hand, pulling me toward the stairs. “I guess so.” Glancing over my shoulder, I say, “I’ll be down once I get him to sleep. Is he due for more meds yet?”
“Not yet. He has three more hours. Night, Cam, love you.” She waves at him.
“Cam wove you,” he says, not bothering to look back at her, keeping his sights on the stairs.
