~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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In the five minutes since I have had the pleasure of meeting Harry's parents, I have been brushed aside and completely left in the dirt.
Standing in the kitchen, I huddle myself and my girls into a corner to observe the weirdest family dynamic I have ever seen in my life.
Harry is holding onto Amos with one hand while the other is ringing out a sponge so that he can start trying to wipe off the baby puke.
"Mum, stop!" He grunts through his teeth towards his interfering mother who is trying her hardest to pry the sponge from his hand and assist him.
Even from this distance, I can see the picture of aggravation that is growing on Harry's facial features.
"You're doing it completely wrong." She reprimands, glaring at him as if he has committed arson rather than having a baby vomit on him.
"Fuck sake, mum." He snarls, batting her hand away and in doing so dropping the sponge from his hand.
I nervously step forward, holding my arms out for Amos. "Harry?"
He turns to me, his eyes softening at the anxiousness etches between my furrowed eyebrows.
"I'll take him while you clean up." I offer my hands out for Amos with a little smile.
Harry looks down to my outstretched arms and then carefully passes Amos over to me. Within seconds of holding Amos, I can already smell the potent stench of baby sick, not only from Harry but also Amos' own baby grow that is coated in vomit.
"Oh, little man." I gasp, bouncing at my knees to rock him while holding him close to me. He was fidgeting so I am hoping to soothe him so I can get him cleaned up. "What happened, huh?"
"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Katherine's thick accent cuts through the buzzed hum in the kitchen. "If he has just thrown up, do you really think it is wise to bounce him up and down like a yo-yo?"
I stop my actions, stilling my movements and standing statue like in the middle of the room.
The accusatory tone of Katherine's voice makes me feel like I am being scolded by a school teacher in detention. The cold stare of her murky eyes penetrate straight into my forehead with a raised eyebrow that is just begging me to challenge her authority.
I am dumbfounded, unable to find the right words to appease her while still maintaining whatever finishing scrap of dignity that I have left.
Looking away from me, I feel my tense shoulders relax with a sigh of relief. That is until Katherine turns to Harry with a pointed stare and snarkily asks him a question that has me fumbling over my own tongue.
"Did you deliberately pick a wife who is mute or is it just because I am here that she's forgotten how to use her brain?"
Harry glares at her, bending down to pick up the sponge before patting his shirt to soak off the baby vomit.
