Daddy issues || h.s

2.3

The sound of laughing children met him when he walked out in the garden. He was balancing a basket full of croissants in his arms, and the sudden noise almost caused him to drop it. 

"Bloody hell," he whispered as he finally sat the basket down at a table. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and shielded his eyes from the unforgiving sun. The garden was filled with people. Abigail's friends and relatives had all come to visit for her annual spring party, and he had feared the day like doomsday. He had pictured himself standing alone in a corner once more, while people whispered about him. He could not have been more wrong, because in fact, no one had even looked at him twice. They were all so busy running after their toddlers, making sure they didn't fall into the pool.

That's why, when he head someone speak to him, he almost knocked the basket of croissants over once more.

"So your name is Harry this time." He turned around to look at whoever had spoken, and was met with a cunning smile and a pair of grey eyes. "The last time we met, you had blonde hair and brown eyes, now you're quite the opposite." The woman continued speaking, not bothering to introduce herself. But despite of her brashness, there was something likeable about her.

"You clearly know who I am, but I seem to lack knowledge of who you are," He said to her, and to his surprise, the woman laughed. "Oh, I'm so sorry for being rude, it's just so fun seeing the look on you guys faces when I mess with you. I'm Leda, Abigail's sister." She reached out her hand for him to shake, and he realised why she had seemed so familiar. She did not, in any way, resemble Abigail, but she looked exactly like an older version of Adelaide. 

"Of course you are, I can see it now," he said and Leda waved her hand in the air. "No you don't, I look nothing like my sister." She said. "No, you don't, but Adelaide looks a lot like you." He said and helped himself to a croissant. The pastry crumbled in his shaking hands and left his fingers greasy. He had never talked about Adelaide to a stranger, and he couldn't help but feel flowers bloom in his heart as he spoke. 

"Ah, Adelaide. What is it like for you to live in the same house as her? It can't be easy, with you two being so close in age." Leda said, and they both turned their heads to look at Adelaide. 

She was stood at the other side of the garden playing with a couple of kids. Her red summer dress blew in the light wind, and when she bent down to talk to a little girl, the hem of the dress lifted, and he could see the white fabric of her bikini bottoms underneath. She looked so lovely, so soft, like she would disappear if he tried to touch her.

"Adelaide is a sweet girl," was all he managed to say, and as he said it, he could detect a gleam in Leda's eyes, as if she knew something. "Just be careful with her. She's a fiery girl that one, she knows exactly what she wants." Leda said, and Harry couldn't help but mutter under his breath. "She's a piece of art."

"What did you say?" Leda started to say, but a little boy tugging at her skirt interrupted her. "Mommy, mommy." The boy said. "Who is that man?" He pointed at Harry as he spoke, and his big blue eyes peered up at him through thick eyelashes. "That, my sweet little Charlie, is Harry. Auntie Abigail's boyfriend." Leda lifted the boy up in her arms and hugged him. But Charlie seemed more interested in Harry.

"I like his curls," he said, and took a big bite out of the ice cream he was holding in his chubby hand. "May I touch them?" he asked. Charlie couldn't be more than two years old, and Harry found himself surprised at how well spoken he was. 

"Of course," Harry answered and leaned over so that the little boy could reach his hair. Charlie let out a small giggle that sounded like a hundred ringing bells and said: "They're so springy and soft!" He kept playing with his hair for a little while, and got so interested in them, he let go of the ice cream cone he had held in his hand.