A firm believer in "Exes can be friends," Chassie Lewis has proven everyone thinking otherwise wrong. For almost four years now, she's been happily divorced from her ex-husband, Nathaniel Forester. The sparks had flown and crashed between them a lon...
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Chassie George
There was a time when my son was just a tiny bundle of joy. A few years later, although still a bundle of joy, Ethan has also become a lot of energy. The thumping footsteps heading my way is a solid proof of that increasing energy.
A giddy Ethan came into view, blue eyes opposite to my hazel ones twinkling delightfully. He had his daddy's mane of light brown hair, a nose perching perfectly on his face, and lips that breathtakingly displayed a charming smile. Truth be told, he looks nothing like me.
"Mommy!"
"Hi, baby, how's—" my sentence ended with a startled oomph when he flung himself at me, the impact on my right leg sending me a couple of steps back to our doorstep. "God, I love you, but Mommy might end up getting tackled in these very steps."
His arms went around my leg. "But I missed you."
"You do?" I lifted him into my arms, a smile playing on my lips. "How much?"
"It's from here," he says with his arms outstretched and then raised it high above his head, "to the moon and then back here."
A laugh came from the hallway. Tessa stood with Ethan's coloring books tucked beneath her arm. "He has his way with words like his daddy."
"He sure does. Two men who mastered the art of buttering me up." I tweaked his nose and closed the door behind me. I followed Tessa to the living room, surprised there wasn't any trace of post-war clutter that usually greets me when I come home from work. "How was your day, Tessa?"
"The usual. Someone has been eagerly asking for dessert after lunch," Tessa answers, a smile worn on the corners taking its place on her face. She had been working for my family since I was a teen. "I gave him a cookie. And then another because he cleaned up after himself." She gestures to the toys that were back in their pirate chest.
I gave Ethan a rewarding smile. "You picked up after yourself? That explains the missing clutter."
"Yes. And I ate my vegetables. Even the Broccoli." He grins haughtily.
I pressed a kiss on the tip of his nose. "You're making me proud."
"I'll get started on dinner." Tessa stacked the coloring books on the coffee table and headed to the kitchen.
Since my last kitchen debacle, my attempts for domesticity have officially been postponed – probably for good. My culinary skills had signified no improvement at all.
The sound of a car groaning to a stop in our driveway made Ethan's face a thousandfold brighter. "Mommy it's daddy," he gushes, floundering from my hold.
I put him to his feet, and he raced to the front door. I chased after him. "Ethan, no running."
"Mommy, it's daddy." He jumps up and down, opening the door himself.
