The Right Side of the Wrong Bed || Bruno Mars

Chapter 21

Faye

Sunday morning, a perfect day for family bonding. When I was little, my parents had always made sure we attend mass on this day and have lunch date afterwards. As for this family... well, everyone seemed too occupied in their own business. I was pretty sure that Prince was in his crib, probably tearing up all the pages of his story book like a boss because he didn't know what else to do with it since he didn't know how to read yet, and that was good enough for an excuse—I thought. Phoebe was in the room with him, playing dolls or something. And Bruno... I didn't know where on earth that guy was but I knew he should be watching over Prince to prevent him from shoving everything he sees to his mouth.

Meanwhile, here I was in our bedroom, picking every dirty clothes I can find scattered on the floor and putting them in the laundry basket. I even reached underneath the bed to come in contact with something really horrible and my sister Eleanor would have fainted at because it was her pet peeve: men's dirty boxers. "Bollocks, ugh!" I grunted passionately, kneeling on the carpet, letting the boxers dangle on my finger, my face twisted up in scorn. "Bruno, you twat!" I dropped the thing in the basket and went back to 'treasure hunting' under the bed, roaming my hands on the carpeted floor.

Carpet.

Carpet.

Carpet.

Paper.

Carpe—wait.

Paper?

I stretched my arm further to get my grasp on what felt like a paper until I was already lying flat on the floor. "Ugh—can't reach—bloody object—ugh," I moaned in a strangled voice. "Just a little more—” and at last I got it. I dragged the paper out, producing a rustling sound on the floor. I held and inspected it in my hand. It was a white envelope with 'To Gabrielle' scribbled on it. "The letter," I gasped.

Never taking my eye off the envelope, I scrambled to my feet. It must have fallen off my bag and left lying on the floor unnoticed. I hoped Bruno didn't see it.

An idea began to drown itself in my mind. Swiftly, I fished the thing in my back pocket and hurried towards the door, bringing the basket with me. The moment I stepped out of the room, I caught Geronimo, Bruno's Rottweiler, jogging towards the half-opened door of the children's room at the end of the hallway, leaving traces of his dirty paws on the carpet. "Geronimo, you're not supposed to climb up here!" I screamed, enraged by what I was witnessing. "Oh no, you're not going in there, you little nitwit," I mumbled, stomping towards the door where the dog had practically sneaked his way in.

I stormed in to see Bruno sitting at a low round table on the center of the room with Phoebe. Bruno Mars may have been known as the guy who regularly wears hat. He was wearing one at the moment, but this time, it wasn't the usual fedora hat he used to wear. It was something else absolutely outrageous and over-sized, with ribbons and flowers all around its brim, the vintage couture hats ladies wear back in the 1800s for covering purposes and fashion as well. A flower-printed apron was fixed over his shirt and khaki pants too. I stared at them in utter disbelief, my jaw resting low.

"Oh, Mrs. Phoebe the ballerina, it's Mrs. Freckled-face—” Bruno squealed in a tiny voice, trying to sound like an English woman whilst holding a toy teacup in his gloved hand in a ladylike manner—in how my mother would hold it. “—oops! I mean 'Mrs. Faye, pretty face.'"

Nice try but no.

"Bruno, what are you—” I said, shaking my head and flapping my eyelids.

"It's so nice of you to come and join us, Mrs. Faye," said he. "Please, do take a seat and soothe yourself." I bit my lips hard, resisting my wanting to laugh.