Sorry I couldn’t make it to your birthday, Damon. Something happened on the way over. I accidentally hit a kid with my car! Victor said, downing a shot of gin. “I was working on some new houses, got in the car, and just as I pulled onto the road, this little boy was suddenly on my hood.
Can you believe it? Luckily, I wasn’t going fast. I jumped out, checked on him—he was alive and said he was okay. A little redhead, couldn’t be more than six years old.
“Where are your parents?” I asked.
“Mum’s at home,” he replied, “cooking dinner.”
“Well, let’s go see her,” I said. “We’ll sort this out.”
He led me to his flat and pointed at the door, then hid behind me. I rang the bell, and a woman answered. Absolutely stunning, but like, worn down. Her eyes didn’t have that spark, you know?
“I’m sorry,” I said, “I hate to bring this up, but I accidentally hit your son with my car. He’s fine, really—here he is.” I pulled the boy out from behind me. “But, maybe you’d like to call the police?”
“No need,” she said quietly. “He’s done this four times before.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mark, go to your room,” she told her son sternly. “Come in, please. Would you like some tea? Or perhaps coffee?”
The tea was great, by the way. Some herbal blend.
“I’m sorry about this,” she said—her name’s Emily. “The other day, Mark overheard me talking to a friend about how hard it is without a husband. He seems to think this is how he’ll get us a dad. You’re at least the fifth man he’s leapt in front of. Gave two of them near heart attacks. I tell him I don’t need anyone else but him, but he’s stubborn. Just like his granddad. Once that man got an idea in his head, forget about it. Did my son scratch your car? I could pay for the repairs, but if not, it’s fine.”
And I was just sitting there, looking at her, knowing—damn, I’m in love. You wouldn’t believe it, Damon, for the first time in my life, I found the woman for me. Tired, in a dressing gown, no makeup. And I know that if I lose her, I might as well jump off a roof.
“I know this seems ridiculous, but could I invite you and Mark to the cinema as a kind of apology?” I asked.
“No need,” she said. “You know, Mark will get ideas again.”
“Do I not appeal to you?” I asked.
“It’s not that. It’s just… under different circumstances… but this feels like I’m pushing my son in front of cars just to get a husband. It’s embarrassing.”
“Yeah. And then there’s me, the jerk taking advantage of a woman in a tough spot,” I joked. “Guess we’re both going to hell! But if that’s the deal, maybe we can at least burn in the same fire?”
I don’t remember all I said, but the next day, I picked them up and took them to see “Transformers.” Then dinner at a restaurant. And, well…
The reason I’m here, Damon, is to tell you we’re getting married in June. We need a photographer. Can you handle it? Look how photogenic they are.
Victor pulled out his phone and showed a picture of a laughing redheaded beauty with a cheeky boy beside her.
Now I’m convinced Cupid doesn’t have wings. Instead, he’s got a mess of red freckles and missing a couple of baby teeth. And his name’s Mark. Though soon enough, Vicky will give him a proper surname. Of that, I’m sure.
