Page 27 of The Dating Ban (Mind the Corbin Brothers #1)

Crazy Frog Secrets

Theo

T he car hums steadily along the motorway, the landscape blurring in shades of green and brown as we head towards Dorset.

The “Crazy Frog” song blares through the speakers, and I glance over at Ivy, who’s laughing along with Lucy, their voices bouncing off the car’s interior.

Lucy’s giggling so hard that she almost forgets the lyrics, but it doesn’t matter—she’s having the time of her life, and Ivy’s right there with her, her voice rising in perfect harmony with the ridiculousness of it all.

I can’t help but chuckle, shaking my head at the two of them. I never thought I’d see the day when “Crazy Frog” became an anthem for road trips, but here we are.

Lucy, in the backseat, sings the high-pitched ‘ring-ring’ part like she’s auditioning for a role in some cartoon. It’s hilarious, it’s chaotic, and it’s completely perfect. Ivy’s laughter fills the space beside me.

“You’ve got the moves down,” I tease, glancing at Ivy, who’s playfully bobbing her head to the beat .

“Oh, you have no idea,” she grins. “I’m practically a backup dancer.”

“You’re definitely a crazy frog,” I quip back, making her laugh harder.

But then Lucy suddenly pipes up, her voice a little too serious for the song. “I need the toilet.”

I wince, glancing at the rearview mirror to meet her wide, pleading eyes. “You think you can hold it, Ladybug?” I ask, hoping she’s not on the verge of bursting.

“I don’t know,” she whines.

“Alright,” I say, trying to stifle a smile. “Well, we’ll pull over at the next motorway services. You think you can wait that long?”

“I’ll wait!” Lucy says, her tone a bit too sure of herself, but I nod, trusting her.

Ivy turns around to face Lucy, “We can use that stop for lunch too. What do you want to eat, Lu?”

Lucy’s eyes brighten, the topic change immediately grabbing her attention. “Chicken nuggets! With chips! And ketchup! And a juice!”

I smile at her enthusiasm, glancing over at Ivy. “Looks like we’ve got our lunch sorted.”

Ivy grins. “Fast food it is.”

We pull into the services, the car slowing to a stop. Before I’ve even switched off the engine, I hear Lucy's voice from the backseat, practically panicked.

“Ivy! Ivy! I need the loo! Now! ”

I glance in the rearview mirror to see her squirming as she unbuckles herself, eyes wide with urgency.

Ivy, already reaching for the door, says “I’ll take her,” before I can even respond.

The minute Ivy opens the door for her, Lu sprints off.

“Slow down!” Ivy calls after her, half-laughing, half-stressed as she hurries to catch up.

I chuckle under my breath as I step through the sliding doors of the motorway services, scanning for the golden arches.

Inside, it’s a wall of noise and movement—buggies, groups of people, someone’s child mid-tantrum over apple slices.

By the time I’ve wrestled my way through the queue and emerged with a tray balanced on my arm, fifteen minutes have vanished.

Outside, the sun’s glaring off the tarmac, and I spot them easily. Lucy’s on the swing, legs pumping like she’s aiming for orbit, while Ivy sits on the bench nearby, half-watching, half-wincing every time Lucy goes particularly high.

“Lunch is served,” I announce.

Lucy flings herself off the swing and barrels into me, arms outstretched. “Thanks, Daddy!” She grabs her Happy Meal like it contains a buried treasure and immediately starts rustling through it for chips.

I hand Ivy her burger. She gives me a look that’s half smile, half relief.

“Perfect timing,” she says, picking up a chip before even sitting down.

“I figured you’d be starving after chasing her around,” I reply, nodding towards Lucy, now sitting cross-legged on the bench, already three nuggets in .

“Chasing might be generous,” Ivy says, sinking into the bench with a sigh. “I mostly just issued warnings from a safe distance.”

We eat in companionable quiet, the kind that doesn’t need filling. Lucy finishes first, naturally, and hops up, crumbs on her chin, eyes bright.

“Daddy, can I go back on the swings?”

I glance at Ivy, still mid-burger. “Go on then. I’ll push you. Ivy’s earned a minute of peace.”

Lucy grins and darts ahead. I follow her over, give the swing a gentle push. She kicks her legs and lets out that high, clear squeal that only kids can manage—full of delight, free of self-consciousness.

“Faster, Daddy!” she shouts between giggles.

I can’t help but smile. It’s infectious.

A few minutes later, when she’s soaring high and entirely in her own world, I stroll back to the bench and drop down beside Ivy, stretching my legs with a quiet grunt.

“You feeling ready for the big camping adventure?” I ask, casting her a sideways glance.

She lets out a soft laugh. “As ready as I’ll ever be. I’ve packed everything, I think. Unless I’ve forgotten something really crucial. Like matches. Or my sanity.”

“I thought you had it all under control,” I tease, nudging her gently.

“I thought I did,” she says, rolling her eyes. “But now I’m wondering if I should’ve packed more chocolate. You know, emergency rations.”

“You’ll be fine,” I say, chuckling. “You’re more prepared than you think.” And even if she isn’t, I’ll be close enough to help. No need to say that out loud—not yet.

She glances at me, and her smile softens. “Thanks for letting me come with you two. Makes it feel a bit less... like I’m doing it on my own.”

“You’re not,” I say quietly. I hadn’t planned to say it, but the words come out anyway—firm, certain. And maybe a little more than I meant to reveal.

We sit with that for a moment.

Then I clear my throat, nodding towards the building. “We should hit the loos before we get back on the road.”

“Good shout,” she says, standing with a stretch.

It takes a minute to pry Lucy away from the swings, but eventually she lets me scoop her into my arms, resting her head on my shoulder as we head toward the parent-and-baby toilets.

Just before we reach the door, she leans in and whispers, “Daddy, I wanna get a surprise for Ivy. For the camping. To help her.”

I glance at her, surprised, then smile. “That’s very sweet, Lu. Alright—we’ll find something good.”

She nods solemnly. “But shh! It’s a secret. Don’t tell her!”

“Cross my heart,” I whisper back.

Inside, she chatters away, brainstorming gift ideas with the enthusiasm of someone planning a heist. When we come out, Ivy’s waiting just outside the toilet block, her arms folded, amusement written all over her face.

“What are you two up to?” she asks, cocking an eyebrow.

“Can’t say,” I reply smoothly. “Classified.”

Lucy beams. “It’s a secret!”

Ivy laughs softly. “Oh, I see. One of those secrets. ”

She and Lucy share a look—one of those little wordless exchanges they’ve started having—and something tightens in my chest. Not in a bad way. Just... in a way.

I should probably be worried. But I’m not.

Not even a bit.