Cannes | H.S

Angel

Layla

His head of curls remain happily on my lap as I continuously run my fingers through them, hearing him release a soothing sigh. A rerun of a delightful and adored Christmas movie plays on the screen ahead, yet I rather keep my attention on the man who still appears to be fast asleep. We've stayed like this for the greater portion of the afternoon as a certain someone won't let me move an inch from his side. Even now as I overlook towards Anne cooking away in the kitchen that I try to quietly excuse myself, yet am stopped as he awakens instantly.

"No, Layla please," he groans drowsily, placing his head back onto my lap to prove a point.

"I'm being rude. Your mother has been in the kitchen all day."

"No..."

"And you have kept me prisoner on this couch."

His eyes open for the first time in hours as he lays on his back, looking up at me with curiosity. "I'm a needy man, what can I say?"

"That I can go and help your...Harry, stop it!" A sudden laugh emits from mouth as he runs his hands all over my body, tickling me to a point of no return. He shares in a delightful scene, pinning me onto the couch until I surrender. "You're horrible."

"Say you love me Layla James."

"No."

"Say you love me, you know you do," He taunts, attempting to steal a kiss as I try my best to fend him off.

"Your mother is right over there," I whisper to him as he places a kiss onto my cheek.

He shrugs, exhaling before taking a single kiss from my mouth and landing on his own two feet. He offers me a hand, one that I don't accept, causing him to frown pitifully. As I proceed to walk over to the kitchen, he tries to reach me again, causing me to giggle once more. However, our sweet and joyful laughter is all that's heard as he throws me over his shoulders as I continuously beg for him to place me down. He carries me into the kitchen, holding me in place as Anne raises a brow.

"Harry, behave now," she warns as I remain dangled over his shoulder.

"She started it," he states.

"Excuse me? Have you lost your mind?" I ask.

"Harry, lovey, please put her down. You're giving Fred indigestion."

"Oh, pardon me," Harry mocks as Fred and Sugar rush over to us, craving attention. The man with the kindest soul, listens, settling me back onto the ground, pecking my lips once more. "This isn't over little darling."

"Yes it is, now hand me that pot over there," Anne demands, causing her son to roll his eyes in response.

In the next number of hours, I spend some time helping Anne out in the kitchen before Gemma's arrival. Harry watches over Sugar and Fred before wanting to take a shower prior to dinner. Merry holiday lyrics are played over the radio as Anne quietly sings along. It's strange, being here with her, working together in absolute harmony. I never had the chance to do such a normal task with my own mother. Surely, we made treats together when I was younger, but all that changed when the spotlight turned onto me.

I don't say much, lost in thought as I stir the pan filled with vegetables. Anne settles her last remaining dishes into the oven, focusing her smile onto me. "Do you like to cook Layla? You seem very at ease here."

"I love to cook. I'm not the best, but I like to learn new recipes...try to recreate my favorite dishes."

"And what is your favorite dish to make?"

"It depends. I enjoy cooking this spicy curry or maybe a creamy southwest pasta."

"Sounds delicious."