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I held my free hand up in apology. “My bad.”

Of course Cal thought it was hilarious that Owen was giving me shit. Trying to distract him, I asked, “Since we’re already running late, should I just head straight to the cabin?”

“No, no, come here. Since it’s still warm and the weather’s good, we’re thinking of taking the kids tubing. You know, wear them out for the nannies.”

I chuckled. “Works for me.”

“All done,” Owen proclaimed as he jerked his pants back up. After he flushed, he tried washing his hands, but he couldn’t reach the faucet. “One sec, buddy.”

Cradling the phone to my neck, I hoisted Owen up. “Tell him Uncle Cal is proud of him,” Cal said.

Although I laughed, a warm feeling echoed through my chest at his words. I’d started my professional hockey career as a single guy, and I’d made friends with all the single guys on the team. Cal was one of my first “dad hockey friends”, and considering what I’d just gone through, he meant so much to me.

Handing Owen a paper towel, I said, “Uncle Cal says good job.”

Owen beamed. “Tanks Unca Cal!”

Cal chuckled. “You’re welcome.”

As I dried Owen’s hands, Cal said, “I’ve got an important question for you.”

“Okay. Shoot.”

Are you prepared for this weekend?”

Furrowing my brows, I replied, “What kind of question is that?”

“An important one.”

Throwing open the bathroom door, I said, “I packed my shit, and the nanny packed Owen’s.”

“That’s not–”

“Oh, I get it. You’re thinking I’m too flaky to handle a weekend with just Owen out of our routine. For your information, I’m more than capable of being a solo parent to Owen outside of Atlanta.”

Deep down, my bravado was all fake. I was scared out of my mind despite the fact there would be two nannies along to help out with the kids when the adults wanted free time.

Cal groaned. “Man, you really are rusty if you thought I was talking about that.”

Ignoring him, I motioned Owen to the candy aisle. “Go on. Pick out what you want.”

“Yeaaaah!” he shouted with arms raised over his head.

With him occupied, I countered to Cal, “Then what were you talking about?”

“Getting laid!”

“Dude, I’m on speakerphone,” I hissed as my gaze bobbed around to see if anyone was listening. Thankfully, the store was practically empty except for what appeared to be a geriatric cashier behind the register.

“Don’t pussy out by trying to change the subject.”

“I’m not…” Lowering my voice, I hissed, “I’m not pussying out.”

“Good. Now answer this. In all your expert packing, did you throw in some fucking rubbers?”

“I’m sorry, but condoms were the last thing on my checklist.”

“I should’ve known.”