To Remarry The Billionaire

Six

Camila’s POV

Zion had just finished telling me about some caterpillar he found on the playground at school, his voice full of the excitement only a five-year-old could muster over the simplest things.

We laughed together, his giggles filling the kitchen as we cleared away the last of our dinner plates. The spaghetti had been a hit, and he had managed to get some of the sauce on his cheeks, which I playfully wiped away with a napkin.

"All right, baby, go wash up. It's almost time for your bedtime story," I said, as I gathered the plates and moved towards the sink.

"Okay, Mom!" Zion replied, hopping off his chair and racing towards the bathroom.

“Slow down, mister. You better not fall down.” I said and he giggled.

Just as I was about to turn on the tap to get the plates washed, my phone rang from somewhere in the living room, the sound cutting through the quiet of the evening.

With a sigh, I placed the plates back down on the counter. Although, there was only one person that ever made my phone rang, and that was Dylan, aside the clients, but I felt like It could be important, maybe even an emergency.

I made a mental note to tackle the dishes later and headed to retrieve my phone. I walked to the living room and grabbed my bag to search through it for my phone.

I found it buried at the bottom of my bag, which I had dropped by the couch earlier in the day and forgotten all about in the after-school rush. Pulling it out, I saw Dylan's name flashing on the screen. Of course, I already knew she was the one.

I rarely got a call from Dad, and when I do, it was always late at night when he called to continue begging me for what he made me do, marrying Zion. I didn’t tell him about my son though, I just couldn’t, because if he mistakenly tell my stepmother or my step-sister about it, then it might get to the last person I want knowing about this.

A smile touched my lips when I focused back on my phone. Dylan had been my rock through thick and thin.

"Hey, Dylan, what's up?" I greeted, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear as I settled onto the couch, folding my legs together in a comfortable way.

"Cam, you won't believe it! We got the contract!" Dylan's voice was practically bursting with excitement.

"The dinner night at Carson Enterprises?" I asked, my own excitement growing, and she screamed into my ear.

"Yes! They loved our proposal. They said they loved our organic, farm-to-table concept, and it was exactly what they were looking for," she explained, her words tumbling out quickly.

"That's amazing, Dylan! This is huge for us," I said, my heart swelling with pride for our small company. We needed this break, and I was glad we were finally getting it.

"I know, I know! I can't wait to celebrate. But enough about me. How did your meeting go with my brother and his fiancée?" Dylan's question hung in the air, and I hesitated for a heartbeat.

I thought about telling her the truth, that her brother's fiancée was the same woman who played a part in my divorce years ago. But then, I pushed the thought away. It was in the past, and that's where it needed to stay.

"It was okay," I finally replied. "We finalized the menu, so that's one less thing to worry about."

I could almost feel Dylan's smile through the phone. "I'm so glad to hear that. I knew you'd handle it. You're amazing, Cam."

We chatted a little more, the conversation flowing easily between us as it always did. Dylan shared a few more details about her meeting, and I found myself laughing at her recount of accidentally spilling coffee on her blouse right before the presentation.

Dylan was so clumsy, but she was the best woman I knew to be professional. She was a good woman too, and was easy to love. It was one of the reasons she was always the first to meet our clients because of that ready-made smile always on her face.

Unlike me, I was always the no nonsense, no-smile person, and I always almost lose clients who flirted with me, so we came to that arrangement. Not that I wasn’t professional enough, because it was always what I wanted to do but they would ruin it by flirting.

And you can’t blame me after my issue with Zion.

"Classic Dylan," I teased, and she joined in the laughter.

"Hey, we should grab coffee tomorrow morning, our usual spot before work. What do you say?" Dylan suggested.

"You read my mind. Let's do it. I'll need the caffeine boost to power through these event plans," I agreed, already looking forward to our morning ritual.

"Great! It's a date, then.” She said, then. “Alright, Cam. Goodnight, and give Zion a hug for me. I can't wait to see you at the coffee shop in the morning," Dylan said warmly.

"Will do. Goodnight, Dylan. Thanks for the good news," I replied, still smiling.

I ended the call, placing the phone down on the coffee table. As I sat there for a moment, I felt a sense of contentment wash over me. Our little catering company was growing, slowly but surely, and it was moments like these that reminded me why all the hard work was worth it.

I stood up, stretched a bit, and glanced over at the sink full of dishes. They could wait. Right now, I needed to tuck my little boy in and read him the story about the caterpillar that turned into a butterfly, a story of transformation that seemed all too fitting for the way I felt inside.

I made my way to Zion's room, where he was already in his pajamas, brushing his teeth. The sight of him, so grown up and yet still so small, filled my heart. No matter what happened in life, he was my priority, my joy, and my greatest accomplishment.

"Ready for story time?" I asked as he spit out the toothpaste and rinsed his mouth.

"Yep!" he said, his words slightly slurred from the mouthwash. "Did I tell you I saw a caterpillar today, Mom?" he asked.

"You did, and guess which story I picked out for tonight?" I teased, holding up the book with a colorful caterpillar on the cover.

Zion's eyes lit up. "The Very Hungry Caterpillar!" he yelled happily.

We settled into his bed, the soft sheets pulled up around us as I opened the book and began to read. With each turn of the page, the day's worries and surprises seemed to drift further away, replaced by this simple, beautiful routine between my son and I.

As Zion's eyelids grew heavy and his breathing evened out, I whispered the last words of the book, closed it gently, and placed it on the nightstand.

“Attaboy!” I whispered as I watched him for a few moments, his chest rising and falling in peaceful sleep, and felt an overwhelming gratitude for the life I had, for the son who made every hardship worth enduring.

I kissed Zion's forehead, turned out the light, and made my way to back to the kitchen, hoping I would finish it soon and found my way to bed as well.