Adios Pantalones (Fisher Brothers 3)

Shaking my head, I turned around. “Sorry about that,” I said, and he giggled.

Matson and I went through our weekday routine of eating dinner, and then sitting together at the table and working on his homework immediately after. Heaven help me if my son had any trouble understanding his homework, because I wouldn’t be any help. The way he was taught wasn’t how I had learned things as a kid. As I watched him make his way through math problems, I felt confused and helpless.

“Is it unwind time now, Mama?”

That was what we called it when we sat in front of the TV and watched shows together. Some people probably considered me a bad parent for letting him watch so much television, but in my opinion, it helped us bond. I spent all day long without him, and if we wanted to watch mindless animated cartoons together, I figured there were worse things we could be doing.

“As soon as I finish up the dishes.” I walked into the kitchen and turned on the faucet to fill the sink with hot water, squirting in a measure of soap. “Did you brush your teeth like I asked?”

Matson groaned, and then I heard his feet padding across the floor. I turned my head to watch him pass by, but he stopped.

“I’m going. See?”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Yes. Thank you.”

“Welcome,” he muttered before disappearing.

After an hour of unwind time, I tucked Matson into his bed and read him his favorite book about dinosaurs.

Twice.

“One more time, Mama. Please.”

He batted his baby blues at me, knowing damn well they were my kryptonite. I could have flipped it and asked him to read to me, but I secretly enjoyed these moments when he still wanted me there, still asked for me to read to him. One day it would all change, and there would be no going back.

As I pretended to ponder his question, he tilted his head, blinking his eyes even faster than before, and I laughed.

“Last time,” I said, preparing him. If I didn’t tell him that, he would ask me to read to him over and over until the sun came up.

Even after I finally stopped reading and walked out the door, guilt consumed me for not reading it just one more time. What harm would it have done?

I pushed the thought aside and filed it in my brain under the category I liked to call Mama Guilt. Nothing was ever enough. I could always do more, be more, spend more time, have more, give more—more, more, more. But I also knew that if I didn’t take the time to give myself some self-care, I wouldn’t be the best mom I could be.

I considered that balance as I made my way to the couch and flipped the channels for a show to watch that was way more grown-up and far less Disney.

No sooner had I found a trashy reality show when my phone pinged with a text message. I glanced at it, seeing only a phone number instead of a name, and it wasn’t a number I recognized.

Wary, I opened the message.

Unknown Number: Still on for our date, angel?

Nerves shot through me as I wondered how the heck Ryan had gotten hold of my phone number. He was a resourceful guy, so I figured he had his ways, but I was slightly unnerved.

Another text pinged.

Unknown Number: Don’t even think about hanging this old man out to dry. And if you tell Ryan I called myself old, I’ll be forced to call you a liar in public. Don’t make me do that, Sofia.

I laughed out loud, both with relief and at Grant’s words. Tucking my feet underneath me, I leaned into my couch and added him to my contacts, then typed out a quick response. I decided to tease Grant a little before agreeing to our date.

Sofia: I’m impressed that you text. I pegged you as more of a caller.

The bubbles danced as I waited for his response.

Grant: I thought texting was less rude at this hour. Were you sleeping?

Giggling again, I glanced at the time, even though I didn’t need to check it. Matson started getting ready for bed at eight thirty on the dot each night, and I made sure that I was done reading and out of his room by nine. It was barely five after.

Grant: You’re stalling.