To Remarry The Billionaire

Seven

Camila’s POV

As I groaned at the sound coming from the kitchen, I reluctantly opened my eyes and took in my surroundings. The morning light filtered into the room, reminding me that it was time to start the day.

I wished it were the weekend, a time when I could simply stay in bed, but reality called. Work awaited, and I had the added responsibility of getting Zion to school.

"Oh no, school! If I didn't get up quickly, I was going to make Zion late," I muttered to myself, feeling the weight of the morning settling over me. With a sigh, I rubbed my eyes, and used the back of my hand to stifle a yawn.

Groaning again, I sat up and stretched, hearing my bone popped behind me with a sound, then I stood up and grabbed my robe so that I would be able to go to the kitchen and make breakfast. As I tied the robe around my waist, my mind raced through the mental checklist of tasks for the day.

I had work deadlines, there was also Zion's school schedule, and the endless to-do list clouded my thoughts. The morning routine was a delicate balance of preparing for the day ahead while ensuring Zion had everything he needed for school.

"Alright, time to get moving," I said to myself, mustering the energy to face the day's challenges. With a deciding sense, I headed to the kitchen, ready to tackle the morning routine and start the day off right.

As I walked to the kitchen, I heard sounds coming from there, and for a moment I thought maybe I was still sleeping, then I entered and I dropped my mouth open. There stood my son with a pan in his hand, and flour everywhere, with the egg out from the fridge, and the bottle of milk out as well.

He looked over his shoulder at me with a smile and then he said. “Hey Mom, good morning.” He winked at me and I couldn’t help but smile, then I remembered the mess he had created and I let the smile drop with my eyes squinted.

“What are you doing, Zion?” I asked and he gave me a big shrug. “I'm trying to make you some pancakes, bring you breakfast in bed like we saw in that movie.” He told me.

Remind me again if my son was five or fifty.

Before I could say anything again, he answered me.

"Well, I figured it's the least I could do after all the times you've made me breakfast," Zion replied with a mischievous grin. "It's just flour, eggs, and milk, how hard could it be, right?" he asked me.

I chuckled at his response, trying to ignore the fact that I would probably be spending the better part of the morning cleaning up his impromptu cooking adventure.

He had wanted to make me breakfast by himself, but that had turned so disastrous. Of course, I couldn’t stay angry at him though, I could never do that.

I couldn't help but let the warmth of the moment wash over me as I stared at him with that silly smile on his face, the frustration about the mess slipping away like mist in the morning sun.

He was trying to do something nice, something we had both seen in a movie where the kid made breakfast for their parent. It was a sweet gesture, and I knew that even though the kitchen looked like a flour bomb had exploded right now, it was the effort and thought that counted.

Gosh, I would love to be angry at him though, show him this might have been a nice thought, but it should have just stayed there, a thought, only I couldn’t do that, at least, not for long.

"Wow, that's really thoughtful of you, Zion," I said, my tone softening as I stepped closer into the kitchen, looking around at the culinary disaster area he had created. This was definitely going to take time to have it cleaned off.

If he had tried this on a weekend when he didn’t have to go to school, maybe I would have found it amusing and be laughing at the effort right now, but…

I looked at him again to see that he had flour dusted against his cheeks and hair, and he wore a proud, yet slightly sheepish grin. He looked at me as if he was waiting for me to say something, and I did.

"But, sweetie, you know you're not supposed to use the stove without me, right?" I said to him, trying to keep the balance between appreciation and a teachable moment. I wanted him to know that there was a thin line between trying to cook something up and actually burning down a house.

This was a rented house, and the last thing I wanted was to start paying off debt for a house because I doubted the landlord would allow his insurance to pay for it, or worse, be arrested for arson.

“You could have burned down the house, you know.” I said.

The smile on Zion's face faltered a little, and he looked down at his flour-dusted feet. "I know, Mom, I’m sorry about that. I just wanted it to be a surprise and I... I wanted to do it myself." He said, but I could hear the remorse in his voice.

I sighed, my heart full. "I appreciate it, honey, but let's clean this up together and I'll show you how to make pancakes properly, okay? That way, next time you'll be the pancake master, but only whenI’m around to guide you." I ruffled his hair, sending a small cloud of flour into the air.

His face lit up again. "Really? You'll teach me?" he asked with a wide grin and I nodded.

"Of course." I smiled. "But first things first, let's get this kitchen cleaned up. And after that, we'll make pancakes together. Deal?" I raised my brows up in question.

"Deal!" Zion exclaimed, his enthusiasm returning in full force.

We spent the next few minutes cleaning the mess, working together to put the kitchen back in order. Once the counters were wiped down and the floor was free of flour, I took out a fresh bowl and began to gather the ingredients again.

Zion watched intently as I measured out the flour, baking powder, salt, and sugar, explaining each step as I went. I showed him how to crack the eggs without getting shell in the bowl and how to measure the milk. He took turns stirring the batter until it was just right, making sure not to over-mix things.

Soon, we started to fry and I was glad they turned out golden and fluffy. When we were done making them, we sat down to eat, smiles on our faces for what we had done.

I stared at my son to see that he was beaming with pride, his earlier attempt forgotten in the success of our joint effort. "These are delicious, Zion," I complimented him, taking another bite of the pancakes. "You did a great job helping me make new ones." I said and Zion's face lit up with a wide grin.

“Thank you, Mom! But that was because you were there with me," he said, giving me a playful nudge with his elbow. Damn, my son was just to old for his age. He was five going on six but he spoke and acted like he was five going on fifty.

I nodded and said. I think we make a pretty good team in the kitchen."

As we continued eating, I glanced at the clock and realized we needed to hurry if we were going to get him to school on time. "Okay, champ, let's get you ready for school. And maybe we can practice making pancakes on the weekend, what do you say?" I asked him.

Zion nodded eagerly, his mouth full of pancake. "Yeah! And then I can really make you breakfast in bed!" he said, still wanting to be a sweetheart.

I laughed, feeling grateful for this small, messy moment that turned into a beautiful thing, and I was glad it made my day already.. "Sounds like a plan," I said. And with that, we quickly finished our breakfast and set about starting our day, a little behind schedule but with smiles on our faces.

As Zion finished his last bite, he jumped up from his seat, eager to get ready for school. "I'll wash help wash the dishes, Mom." he offered, already starting to pick up his plate and mine.

I smiled at his willingness to help. "Thank you, baby. I appreciate it," I said, grateful for his thoughtful gesture. "You really are a great kid, you know that, right?" I said to him and he nodded.

With a grin and a shrug, he smiled. "I just want to be a great adult like my mom too," he said before darting off to the sink.

As I watched him, I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. With a contented sigh, I finished my coffee and headed to him at the sink so that we ca