Arranged with Style.

28.

The actual last thing I wanted, or expected on a Wednesday evening was for a buzz from below, the intercom flashing red indicating that someone was downstairs and wanting to come up. Well, it couldn't be Harry, maybe it was Casey? Or Silver?

Frowning in confusion I pressed the button warily.

"Hi Darling, its Anne." A voice chimed through the slightly fuzzy intercom making me bite my lip in contemplation before deciding that I kind of wanted to hear what she had to say, because as much as I hated to admit it, all my run-ins with Anne usually left me with a whole lot of information about Harry. So I pressed the green button that allowed her to come up and then sat on the edge of the couch nervously as I waited.

A knock on the door made me jump, even though I was expecting it-- kind of like a toaster, you know it's going to pop yet it still scares the actual crap out of you when it does.
Shaking off my weird analogy I peeped through the peep hole to see Anne standing there, a pretty unreadable expression on her face. Turning to glance at the mirror on the wall I grimaced at my appearance, knowing my mum would have had a fit if she knew I was over here greeting guests looking like this.

I was wearing a scraggly, really large knitted sweater that hung off my body and a pair of worn out leggings and my hair looked as if I hadn't combed it-- I had actually, however my hair decided it didn't want to listen. Running a hand through my hair with a eye roll I unlocked the door and pulled it open hesitantly. It was nearly time for Harry to come home, and I wasn't sure how he would react to having Anne here after the things she said last time.

Even now I had to grit my teeth and clench my small, not very threatening fists as I greeted her with forced warmth.

"Hi Anne, um, it's a surprise to see you here," I said with a nervous laugh as she pushed open the door and slipped past me into the apartment making me stand there with pursed lips before I shut the door after getting over my astonishment.

"Yes, so sorry for appearing unannounced, but I have something important to tell Harry that couldn't be done over the phone. So, where is that wayward son of mine?" She asked cheerily, standing in the middle of the room as if our last encounter hadn't occurred the way it had. I gritted my teeth at the words she had just said about Harry feeling weirdly defensive of him, especially after we went to that carnival last weekend.

So, purposefully ignoring her words I breezily brushed past her into the kitchen flicking on the kettle.

"Would you like a drink?" I asked with a pleasant smile on my face as I gazed at her placidly from behind the counter. She narrowed her eyes at me,  the false happy expression slipping off her face slightly as she slowly walked forward until her hands rested on the marble counter top, long red nails tapping the counter making me cringe.

"I think it seems we made a mistake in choosing you as Harry's wife," she let out a scoff, "Do not think I've forgotten what happened last time, dear." Her brown eyes flashed dangerously as she leaned forward making my mouth part in surprise at her harsh turn of character, I gulped and really questioned my life decisions as I leaned away from her imposing form. "You dare to give me attitude whilst looking as pathetic as that, Ha! I bet Harry doesn't even cast you a second glance does he? Not that I blame him, you're as lowly as they come!" She spat and I cursed myself for feeling the poisonous burn of tears in my nose and the backs of my eyes at her harsh words, an unwanted memory flashing before my eyes as I bit my lip trying to control my tears from falling.

"Daddy, I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean to-to knock it over!" The cowering five year old stammered, slowly inching backwards towards the kitchen door and away from her angry father. He was red in the face, a broken beer bottle shattered around his feet that the little girl had knocked over whilst playing hide-and-go-seek with her imaginary friend.