Two
Chapter's song: "Treat you better" by Shawn Mendes.
The fact that I'm driving towards my best friend's house to babysit her daughter on a Friday night says much about my social life.
Or lack of.
However, my usual routine of watching Friend's reruns on Netflix sound much more appealing than babysitting Marianne.
I'm awful.
I adore Marianne, I do. Despite the fact that Emily defines her as willful, she is such a good baby. Especially since in her short span of life, she's been in more social events that I've ever been in my life. She loves to observe people and is a pretty calm baby. I love spending time with her.
Just not with Mark.
Childish and immature come to mind whenever I think of him, and I am a patient person. Most of the time. Not with him, though.
It doesn't take me more than half an hour to get there. I take the longest route, hoping to be stuck in traffic, but I have no luck. However, the guilt of screwing my friend's date is unbearable.
Emily and Scott live on the outskirts of London. Their house has a massive wall surrounding the property. It's really hard not to miss. Yet, I understand. When you're married to the future King of England, you guard your privacy as if it is the Crown's treasure. I stop my car at the gates, waiting for Samuel, one of their usual bodyguards, to get a clearance call. He never makes it when it comes to me. He knows me too well.
I'm parking my car, next to Mark's pompous black BMW, when Emily steps out of the house, wearing a beautiful black dress and looking absolutely stunning for just having a baby. I feel bad for the fact that she was forced to follow a strict diet even when she was pregnant. Being fat and a public figure, didn't go well. Plus, she didn't want to add more complains to her never-ending feud with the actual Queen, Scott's grandmother.
I can't blame her. That woman scares the crap out of me, too.
"You made it!" She embraces me in a bear hug and I pat her back awkwardly. Scott's brown head peeks from the door, and he shakes it before disappearing.
"Em, are you okay?" I pull away, straightening my t-shirt and admiring how different she looks from all the previous times I've been here. Lately, all she wears are yoga pants and t-shirts stained with milk spots near the shoulders.
Her green eyes are wide as she bites her lip. "I've never left Marianne alone. Ever." Her tone is soft, her jaw starts to quiver and her eyes tear up. "And I'm too freaking emotional!" She gestures towards her eyes and raises both hands completely frustrated.
My stomach clenches because I wanted to be late.
Bad Kate. Bad, bad Kate.
"She's staying in good hands, Em." She raises her eyebrow, pressing her lips together in a straight line. "She is! I'm here! And Mark can be a douchebag but he loves Marianne." I can see that Emily is frowning. Crap. Bad choice of words. "Gosh," I gesture to her outfit, "did I tell you how amazing you look?"
That cracks her up. "You're sweeting me up, huh?"
I beam at her. "Is it working?"
She shrugs, wisps of her dark glossy hair cascading down her shoulders. "Kind of." Her eyes sweep to her shoes, a perfect set of red stilettos Jimmy-Choo. "I can't believe I'm wearing this."
I pass an arm around her shoulders, while we get closer to the house. "I don't think you'll be standing up much, Em."
My friend blushes, shoving me playfully by the hip. "Shh...don't give him ideas," she talks in a soft murmur, meant only for us. "I'd be so happy if I can sleep the whole night for the first time in months."
Good luck with that!
I suppress a smile. Em glances at me, her brows creasing. She's clearly thinking the same thing.
The inside of the house is as familiar as my own house. I spend too much time here. In my defense, we rarely go out together since I absolutely despise the paparazzi. Every once in a while, some follow me around until they get bored. Which is a bit pathetic, if you think about it...
I follow Emily to the kitchen, where she has set a gazillion things for us on the counter. Toys, a blanket, prepared food, empty milk bottles, and some other stuff that I'd never seen in my life.
Just as I'm picking up something that oddly resembles a pacifier, the two brothers stroll inside the room. Mark is holding Marianne, who's smiling like crazy at him.
She always smiles at him more.
I try not to mind, but I do. Because I'm way cooler than him.
"Hi," he bobs his head towards me.
"Hi," I avert my eyes.
Awkward.
Emily watches the whole interaction with a worried expression on her face, at the same time Scott walks to me. He gives me a light hug, after thanking me for doing this in such a short notice.
Before I say anything else, Em starts to recite all the things we need to do, where she keeps the bottled breast milk in the fridge, or an excessive amount of telephones in case we need anything, covering from the fire department to her Mom's home number.
She then proceeds to walk around the house and we all follow her as she points at different things: Marianne's blanket, where are the diapers, baby ointments, medicines, etc.
Thirty minutes pass before Scott grabs her hand and takes her away. She kisses Marianne on the forehead before leaving, her eyes teary and a worried expression on her face.
"Pfft. I don't know why she worries," murmurs Mark as they climb onto their car.
I stare at him. Are you freaking kidding me? "They're obviously worried about you, Mark."
Marianne giggles and I so want to reach out to her, but I clench my hands by my sides. She's not coming with me. Mark is her favorite.
Bloody hell.
He shrugs. "I can take good care of my niece on my own."
I ignore his remark as I notice the little logo on his black t-shirt. "You like Little Mix?" I step back, wanting to see the group's pic on the back. There's nothing.
He doesn't seem to be fazed. "What? They're hot chicks!" He says at the same time he raises Marianne, the little baby smiling and making noises like crazy.
Of course.
I roll my eyes and step inside the house to check Emily's schedule. Yes. She made a tight schedule for Marianne's activities.
I love my friend, but seriously, how hard can it be to babysit a six-month baby?
I have to bit my lip before I know it.
Apparently, Marianne is not fond of carrot puree. The stains on my t-shirt and floor tell so. She's been spitting everything I put in her mouth and her whole demeanor indicates that she's about to make a fit. She's moving her arms in the air and her jaw is starting to quiver. Her usually light skin color is turning pink and her eyes are all teary.
Mark is staring at us, with his arms crossed, leaning on the kitchen's door. "She clearly doesn't want that."
"No shit." I don't glance at him, I'm trying to make an airplane while opening my mouth, hoping that Marianne follows my lead while looking pretty stupid, I'm sure.
"I didn't think your goody-two-shoes nature would let you curse."
My eyes cut to him for a second.
Fuck you.
I don't say anything, though.
One, because I can't curse in front of a baby and two, he is probably riling me up. I can't give him the satisfaction. Or you know, let him know that he is succeeding.
Marianne bursts into tears and I now I've lost the battle.
Mark's forceful strides resound through the kitchen. He dips one finger into the puree before bringing it to his lips. He scrunches up his nose, starting to cough, making a show out of it. "This is awful, no wonder she doesn't want it!"
I glare at him, but when he's not looking at me, I taste the puree. It is awful. I scrunch up my nose. It tastes funny. Like bittersweet, more bitter than sweet.
Obviously, I don't admit it out loud, I simply put it away before I pick up Marianne. I try to sooth her, speaking softly in her ears. She's already hot and sweaty from crying.
I peek a the kitchen clock on the wall. Only an hour has passed since Emily and Scott left.
Good grief. How long is this night going to be?
Marks grabs one of the milk bottles from the fridge, staring at it as it was the most complicated puzzle. He shakes it, his brows furrowing. "It's cold."
I smile, stepping closer to him and giving him Marianne. Please calm her. He grabs her and starts to talk to her, pacing around the room, looking at her with so much love in his eyes, that my whole body stands still.
This is one side of him that is rarely seen.
Shaking my head, I go to the counter. I've seen Emily use this weird device to reheat a bottle when we need to go somewhere and she doesn't want to breastfeed. It doesn't have instructions, but really, how hard can this be?
Marianne doesn't seem to calm down. Her crying is worse with every passing second. My stress is through the roof and even cool-headed Mark is looking like he could use some help.
I have no idea what I'm doing. After thirty seconds, I take the bottle and pass it to him. It feels warm, but not too much. I hope it will do.
Mark passes me Marianne and shakes the bottle upside down over the back of his hand. What the hell is he doing? Checking the temperature? And where the bloody hell did he learn that?
He's about to taste it, and despite the whole situation, I crack up. "You do know that's Emily's breast milk?"
Blue eyes cut to me. "Bloody hell!" His cheeks flush as he starts jumping up and down shaking his hand as if it was poisoned or something. Even Marianne stops crying for a full two seconds, surprised to see her uncle like that.
My chest's shaking with laughter as I grab the bottle and give it to our little bundle of stress.
Her wail is stronger. She pushes the bottle away.
I frown, passing the back of my hand on her forehead.
"Holy crap, she's burning!" I look at Mark, who's scrubbing hard on his hand at the kitchen sink.
"Fuck."
Indeed.
I dedicate this to the lovely and talented @Monrosey. Her book, Strawberry Wine, will be published in January, but you can still read the first draft on Wattpad! :)
Have a great week guys! Thank you so much for all the support! Love you all!
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