Page 94

“Unconventional.” I grinned. “But yes. She’s always been very entertaining. And if you wondered, I didn’t steal it or anything. Had a guest with several well-dressed wives who were not only charming but more than happy to make a phone call or two for me. It’s not that hard. Not when you know who to speak to.”

“Sounds ludicrous.”

“It usually is,” I agreed. “Speaking of which…”

“Dad!” Here was Constance, pushing a luggage trolley with a young boy perched on top of a stack of suitcases.

Dylan was a mess. I knew he’d be, tears running down that handsome face as he tried to hug both children at once, which was when I noticed the woman carrying the smaller boy in front of me.

“You the driver?” she asked, handing me a folder. “Passports, documents. Prescription for Marmaduke. He needs it refilled this week. Okay?”

I wasn’t…the driver. Or maybe I was?

“Here,” she said, trying to hand me the child, who promptly started screaming. Then the woman put him down on the floor, talking sternly to him in Spanish.

Ah. Yes. Children. Never an easy ride. Not quite the fairy-tale creatures they were so often made out to be.

And now Dylan was trying to pick him up as he kicked like a rabid dog.

Okay. We were playing this game then.

But there he was, my Dylan, sitting on the floor in the middle of a busy airport, quietly waiting him out, while the woman, who introduced herself as Pilar, the nanny, rattled off another long list of instructions that I only half took in as the tantrumming child filled the air with rage.

“It’s okay, Pilar,” Constance said. “You go. Don’t miss your flight. Mommy won’t pay you if you do. Go. Run for it.”

“She’s going straight back?” I questioned as Constance rolled her eyes.

“This time without all this.” She sighed. “You’re Stewart, right? I remember.”

“Yes,” I confirmed weakly.

The child was now howling, trying to crawl across the floor as Dylan followed and apologised to people getting in his way.

“He’s…difficult. He also loves Pilar, so yeah. It’s not going to be easy. He won’t let me pick him up either, so good luck with that. Now…”

“Yes?” I said as she pushed me a little further away.

“Marmie has wet himself. Twice. Pilar made him wear a nappy, which he’s deadly embarrassed about. I need to try to change him before we get in the car. He stinks.”

“Okay.” Breaths. Two large ones. “Not an issue. We can do that. Let’s get everyone out of here, and we’ll find a quiet spot.”

“Don’t let Dad get mad at him.”

“I won’t.” Promises, ones I had no idea how to keep.

“And we’re starving, just so you know. Marmie hasn’t eaten since yesterday morning, Phinney threw up on take-off, and yeah. Airline food.”

I had no clue, did I?

“Would McDonald’s be a horrific suggestion?” God help me. Less than five minutes in and I was already pulling the junk-food card. My son would be horrified.

“Mommy would sue you,” Constance said firmly. “But then, Mommy’s not here, and anything is better than this.”

“Agreed,” I said, turning around and lifting the boy down from the luggage cart. Health and safety and all that. Bah. It was so ingrained in me, thinking I was once again at work. I wasn’t. This was…

“I’m Stewart,” I said, putting him down on the ground.

What was I like? This wasn’t how you met children for the first time. I had done training on this. But the child stank of urine and…