Erik lost.
He’d been hesitant about going abroad this year. What with a new baby and Andreas still not being quite right, he’d wanted to stay at home. Just be them. A family. Where even he was figuring out that not a lot could go wrong.
But he lost. Jo booked a family-friendly hotel by the beach in Valencia. Lauren booked flights. Andreas complained about the Valencian accent, and grumbled that he’d voted for Barcelona.
Right up until the morning of the trip, Erik wondered if he wasn’t the only one who was remotely sane.
“Babies hate flying,” he said for the umpteenth time as Andreas hefted their bags into the boot of Jo’s car on the Saturday morning. “It hurts their ears. Remember that baby on the flight to Rome?”
“That was a two-year-old, and he was screaming because he wanted sweet
