Me: Do we have an itinerary? Our First Child: *attachment* I open the attachment Bellamy sends the group to a PDF with our flight details, noticing we’re taking Annette’s private jet, and stand. We need to be at the airport in four hours and no one is packed. I glare at Bellamy, communicating my displeasure at the short notice. He wipes a grin off his lips with the back of his hand and stands with the type of grace I will never have no matter how long I live; my son is very well trained and kind of amazing. Of course, no sooner does he take a few steps than he runs into the new table Fox
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