~Close your eyes and picture the warmth of the sun on your skin... that's how being loved by her felt~
Harry Styles is a nepotism baby turned new father, left clueless with a newborn baby to raise, he is overwhelmed and under pressure. Matters are...
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"Friday, what are you doing to my son?"
From the high stool tucked under the counter top, I encompass the white mug that I have just topped up with yet another round of bitter black coffee.
"Friday? Really?" Sunday narrows her eyes at me all while still curling her lips into a dainty smile, swaying her body back and forth as she rounds the counter to the employees only side. "Surprisingly that is not the first time someone has made that joke."
I squint at her, feeling so tired that my eyes are not working any longer. If I was at home, I would be sliding my glasses up my nose and delighting in the relief that prescription brings me.
"And here I was thinking I was being original." I sigh, dissolving myself in blatant disappointment for not thinking of something unique..
Sunday walks over to the grill and alarm bells start to ring in my mind at the sight of my twelve day old son who is now near a steaming grill top in the arms of a woman who I have just met.
I think the insomnia I have been experiencing over the last couple of days might have hazed my perception of stranger danger.
What the fuck was I thinking?
"Sunday? What are you doing with my child?" I rush, standing to my feet and stepping up so that my stomach is pressing into the counter surface separating us.
She spins around with a soft grin while still cradling him in a swishing motion from side to side.
"I'm not trying to be an arsehole but you're seriously freaking me out and I am an overly exhausted father who has stupidly just handed over their newborn to a blonde waitress that he has never met before and now she is smiling like a serial killer by the grill so please for the love of fucking god, give me my child back!"
"Easy tiger." She chuckles, supporting Amos with one hand and reaching up to the fan extractor above her head with the other.
Flicking the switch, the soft murmuring of the extractor fan consumes the air around us. Droning on to create white noise that muffles out Amos' cries, my eyes widen as I watch my baby eventually and almost instantaneously subsides to gentle whimpers instead of screams.
"See?"
I raise an eyebrow, a challenging look lasered to the blonde waitress who has somehow managed to work a miracle and lull my baby to a sleepy subdued state.
"How the fuck?"
She smirks, her light eyes flicking up to the extractor fan with a prideful delight that makes me resent her just a little bit.
Although I am glad for the silence that comes with her managing to soothe my son, I can't help but begrudge her abilities a little. I'm his dad and I am supposed to be able to do these things but I can't settle him. I can't calm him down no matter how hard I try and within a couple of sort seconds, this stupid waitress, whom I have never met before, does the impossible.
