~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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The rest of the shopping trip was painful to say the fucking least.
My next mission was to find something for Sunday to wear so that we can take fake wedding photos to plant around the house, obviously this was met by a multitude of resistance because she refused to try anything on in the changing rooms.
"I have white dresses at home, why are you insisting on buying one?"
"It needs to look like a wedding dress, Friday. This isn't a garden party. This is our wedding."
She raises her eyebrow at me and purses her lips while running her hand through her hair. "Fake wedding."
"Hmm?" Too distracted, shuffling through the racks of white dresses, I completely mishear her.
"It's our fake wedding, this isn't real so I don't see why it needs all this faff? It's a waste of money."
I turn to her, smirking as I lose the will to live even more than before. "Good thing I am loaded then, isn't it Sunshine."
Sunday rolls her eyes, pushing Amos' buggy around the side of the shop to a rack further away from me.
"Just because you have money, doesn't mean you need to spend it." She scolds, acting like a mother with her matter of fact tone that makes my skin crawl.
One of my biggest pet peeves with my mum is that she is constantly trying to control how I spend money. I get that technically it is hers and dad's money but I am a grown man, I don't need someone to tell me that I am in the wrong for how I choose to spend my money.
"Just pick out a dress, Sunday. One that looks remotely like a wedding dress."
She huffs, lifting a white dress from the rack and struggling with the amount of fabric that comes with it.
I survey it, taking in the appearance of the white satin that shines in her hands.
"This one?"
She smiles apprehensively, looking from me to the dress that she is holding up.
"It's nice, isn't it?"
I don't know why she is asking for my approval, she is the one having to wear it. I'm just footing the bill.
"Yeah. I like the sleeves but the dress is short."
"Yeah." She agrees, going to slip the coat hanger back on the silver rack with a deflated look that makes me feel bad.
"Does that matter?"
She wanders away, dragging the girls around after her. On the way to the dress shop, we stopped to buy them some candy and a children's magazine each to keep them occupied. That's probably why they're skipping about behind their mum, quiet as ever with their noses stuck in the pages of a Disney magazine.
