Meanies.

I have to go to London.

He looks at me for what feels like an eternity. I'm busy stirring honey into my coffee. My throat is knives. I took Henry to the doctor yesterday and he has strep. Why wouldn't I, right? Henry's on antibiotics and I'm just plain stubborn. I have six days to get better before an event and no way could I get on a plane.

If I had the time.

If I even wanted to.

I have something I want to check out and then I thought we could have a little vacation. Take a few days-

I'm sorry. Maybe Lochlan is free though. 

It's not on offer for him. It's work and I need my assistant. Not a busker. 

Well, sorry to say your assistant is a busker so when you insult my husband you're lumping me in with him. 

Caleb realizes I'm not going to let him off the hook and tries again.

Bridget, I'm sorry. I don't appreciate offers of replacement, I guess. I was trying to turn a work trip into a pleasure trip. God knows you could use the break. Honestly if Lochlan saw you talking to yourself as I have he'd-

I wasn't-

DON'T say it. The only way I can sleep at night is to consider you talking to yourself to cope. Please. 

Ha. Newsflash-

Do I have to force you to go. 

You can't. 

I don't know if you've noticed, but I do what I please.