I smirk as I weave in and out of the traffic. “Wait till you have to cook the shit,” I mutter under my breath.
“Will Mom be home?” he asks.
“Aha.” I see a travel agent and I pull over. After wracking my brain for a romantic proposal all weekend, I got nothing. I thoroughly deserve my rating of three in the romance sector. “Yes, she’ll be home soon. She’s not working late tonight,” I answer.
“Can I have a bath with crayons tonight?”
“No. Those things are ridiculous.” Owen got bath crayons that were supposed to be great fun for his birthday, but all they did was fuck up two upstairs baths and stain the fucking carpet in the hall. “I threw those silly things in the rubbish. Do you remember the mess they made?”
He rolls his eyes as he stares out the window. “Santa will bring me more, anyway,” he mutters under his breath.
I smirk because he’s got a snarky little attitude, just like his mom.
“Don’t count on it, buddy,” I say as I park the car. “I’ve got a hotline to Santa. He and I are tight.” I cross my two fingers and hold them up for him to see.
We climb out of the car and I take his hand as we head into the travel agent’s. The door has a bell over it and it rings to let them know of our arrival.
“Yes. Hello.” The girl smiles as she comes from the back room.
“Hello.” I smile. Shit. I glance down at motor mouth, who’s staring intently up at us. Didn’t think this through too well, did I? “I’m looking for somewhere to go for vacation around Christmas time,” I lie.
“Sure. Somewhere kid-friendly?” She smiles.
Owen grins up at her and swings his arms excitedly.
Hmm, fuck’s sake. “Yes, kid-friendly,” I confirm.
“Well, Disneyland is always great. Have you been there?” She smiles down at Owen.
His eyes light up and he shakes his head. “No. Oh, can we go, Dad? Can we?”
“Hmm... I’ll just take some brochures, if that’s all right.”
“Okay, sure, where do you want brochures for?”
I narrow my eyes as I glance down at Owen. “Somewhere...” I pause.
She smiles knowingly. “Did you see our globe at the front?” she asks Owen.
“Oh.” He immediately goes over to the globe and starts to look at it intently.
“You don’t want kid-friendly at all, do you?” she whispers.
“Definitely not,” I whisper back.
“What do you want?”
“Romantic kick-ass proposal place.”
She smiles broadly and puts her hand on her chest.
I look at her blankly. I’m not asking you. “Any suggestions?”
“I have heaps. Give me your email and I’ll send you a list of destinations tomorrow.”
“Great.” I take out my wallet and am just taking out a business card when I hear a loud crash and bang, and I look up in horror. “Owen!” I call.
He stands still, eyes wide.
Fucking hell.
Owen has spun the globe so hard it has come off its stand and gone flying into the window, smashing into a hundred pieces.
His little face falls and his eyes fill with tears. “It’s okay.” I sigh. “It was just an accident.”
He scrunches up his face and begins to cry in embarrassment.
“I’m so sorry,” I mutter. “How much do I owe you for the globe?”
“I’m not really sure it can be replaced.” She frowns in horror. “It was my boss’, a present from his late wife.”
“Oh, fuck.” I sigh.
“I know,” she whispers, wide-eyed and mortified.
My phone rings and the name Bloss lights up my screen. “Excuse me for a moment, please.” I answer the call. “Hey, Bloss.”
“Hi, Cam. I just got a call from a solicitor.”
“Why?” I glance up to see the poor girl trying to pick up the pieces of the smashed globe. I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes in horror. I’m going to have to book my trip through here now.
“They want to see me urgently and left a message on my phone,” she says.
“What about?” I ask.
“I don’t know. What do you think it is?”
I shrug. “I have no idea.”
“Do you think it has something to do with the court proceedings you lodged?”
I shake my head. “No, babe. Text me the number and I’ll ring them and find out.”
“Oh, could you? I’m still at work.”
“Yeah.”
“Where are you?” She smiles.
“I’m with Owen, breaking shit.” I sigh.
She laughs, thinking I’m joking. This is not a drill. We are literally breaking shit over here. “See you in about an hour.”
“Bye,” I reply.
After paying the poor girl what she thinks the globe