Meanwhile, on the Bennet men's side…
Charles sighed for the umpteenth time, glancing in the rearview mirror to see the faces of his sons. But none of them seemed to care about the epic failure of a day they had. Instead, his sons were in the back seat of the van, doing their own thing: Atlas was quietly staring at the side of the road, Hugo was sleeping in the back, and Slater was busy with his phone.
Shaking his head, Charles cast a sidelong glance at Haines. Haines had his elbow propped against the window, eyes on the side of the road.
'He came back late, so I had to cancel his last date,' thought Charles. 'But even though we sat at the same table for around thirty minutes while the boys were wrapping up another disastrous date, he didn't tell me anything about his date with that woman.'
