Callan’s POV
When we head back to my apartment, Mackenzie insists on stopping at the supermarket, telling me that she will be cooking tonight, a thank you for letting them stay with me.
I carry the bags as we enter my apartment, Maxton in his mother’s arms but wriggling free the second we cross the threshold, sprinting toward his toy cars like he hasn’t seen them in weeks.
Mackenzie places the bag she was carrying in her free hand on my dining table, opening it up to pull out a plastic plate, the smallest cutlery I’ve ever seen that has some weird character on the handle, bibs and a flat spongy square that when she opens turns into some sort of seat. She ties it to one of my dining chairs, effectively making it into a high chair for the kid before taking the shopping bags from my hands,
