Damn, this picture makes me feel things.
Charlie's POV
"I ain't thinkin' bout you!" I belt, swaying my hips a bit. Listen, it's a Beyonce kind of Sunday morning. No one's up yet, so I figured why not, ya know? I'm trying to be quiet but like, you can't not belt Beyonce. You just can't. "I ain't sorry."
Might as well put this fancy home-theater system to use that Zayn insisted we have. It's a shame really- it hardly gets used, since we're not having too many wild parties anymore. "I don't give a fuck, chuckin' my deuces up! Suck on my balls...pause. I had enough." Okay so I definitely just put the spatula down to start screwing in the light bulb (you know this is my go-to dance move.) "I ain't thinkin' bout you!"
But where was this song when I was cursing the shit out of Luke after he screwed me over?
"Oh, nice. I'm sure the kids would appreciate you telling them to suck on your balls." I grin, slightly embarrassed as I turn around to face an amused Zayn. Clearly having just woken up, he looks yummy in a pair of black Adidas track pants with the tip of his Ralph Lauren boxers peeking out. And the messy hair that could totally pass for a style? Yes.
And that fricking morning voice.
"S'pose it's a good thing the kids are still sleeping, then, right?" I turn back around to tend to the french toast, but having to stop to raise the roof when the Queen tells me to put my hands high. I'm gonna let myself just be carefree...it's one of the few days when I don't feel bogged down and full of sorrow; when I feel like I have a shot at being regular old Charlie. Regular old quirky Charlie.
Zayn chuckles, kicking off the doorframe to walk over and come stand next to me. The song switches as he takes in my perfectly golden french toast. I was going to dice up some fruit for a nice fruit platter, but I decided that might be over the top. I'll admit that part of the reason I'm going all out is so that perhaps an extravagant breakfast will soften the blow to Mar that he's going to be starting a new preschool tomorrow. He may take it well, though; any chance to make new friends is fine by him. And given that those kids seriously pissed him off.
The other reason for my fine display of culinary skill is that Talia's stopping by pretty early with the finished invitations (!!) that probably should have been done and mailed out in the summer time. But better late than never, I always say.
Britney Spears starts playing through the speakers as I hand Zayn the pack of Turkey sausage and a fork. "Sick playlist," he says, beginning to splay the meat out on a sheet pan to put in the oven.
I can't tell if he's being serious or not, honestly.
"Right? I thought so too. It's my empowering women playlist." He snorts at that, but throws his hands up in surrender when I glare. All is forgiven when he places said hands on his hips and gyrates....which is probably the only way to describe the movement of his body, cause bless his soul, he tries to dance.
"Oops I did it again." He uses a falsetto voice to sing along to Britney. "I played with your heart." I giggle as he takes it one step further and slides across the floor, holding the fork up to his mouth and singing more of the lyrics. And I thought I was bad...
Though I guess I am since I provide backup with the spatula as we really get into it. We're such dorks. We're belting our best Britney- like, full on space-galactic music video when the song changes sooner than I would have liked. The both of us look at each other before bursting out laughing. "I feel like that went a hell of a lot further than it should have," he snorts.
"Probably," I agree. Bed Peace starts next and we both look at each other again, a private smile playing on our lips. Zayn used to constantly blast this when we first got serious, claiming it as a 'tune.' We're singing along to Jhene as we make an assembly line of sorts- he scrambles the eggs and pours them into the pan before passing me the dirty stuff to wash.
"You tell me that you wanna do it big. I love when you say guess what what what..." He raps. I bump my hip into his, loving being here with him like this.
"And I wonder why I'm all messed up. Cause we gotta be responsible sometimes. I don't wanna be around a baby so dumb high that I don't see the beauty of a momma on insides. Curled up with my head on your chest, it's the best remedy for the pain and the stress. If the world doesn't change then we'll never get dressed. It'll be like this to the kiss of the death, of my soul, bowl of the blue dream, no not a good team one soul, two halves. No joke, who laughs? Just us, just us, just us..."
He looks up at me after rapping practically the whole verse, and I'm sure I'm gaping. "Who knew, Mr. Malik. Who knew."
"I mean, I've got skills. I'm the next Eminem, y'all." It takes me a minute to catch on, but then I realize he's mocking me from like, two years ago when I was drunk at his housewarming party. The times. I'm mildly surprised that he remembers the small things about me. I hip-check him again, turning to find him biting at his lip and already staring at me with those golden eyes. "I think I'm gonna go by Big Z," he says, throwing up the Westside sign or whatever.
(I won't bring up the fact that it was a gesture him and Louis were doing everyday at some point before everything went to hell in a handbasket between the two. Though I'm sure he realizes the connection as well when his jaw suddenly clenches.)
I grin to try to lighten the mood. "Yeah we can be Big Z and Charlie D!"
He mirrors my grin. "Ahhhh sheee-iiiittt." I throw my arm around his bare waist as I hear little sets of feet approaching. I'll never understand how Liyana gets out of her crib, though my bets are on Marley probably helping her. Zayn seems to think that means it's time to get her a bed.
"Mummy, we gonna haved ice cream?" Marley asks, stretching and yawning.
"Too early, man. Too early," Zayn answers. "Breakfast first." He finishes getting their little Zoo-pals plates together before he turns around and scoops up Adrian. Adrian's laughing as Zayn practically tosses him in the air and catches him.
"My turn, it's my turn daddy!" Marley screeches and there goes the quiet morning I was having. Silence really is golden when you've got kids.
Speaking of silence, I look for my baby girl, soon catching her tired little self peeking around the corner from the hallway where one of her potties are. She's using it! Yes!
Look. It's the small things, people.
And it's so stinking cute because for whatever reason, she sneaks off and does her business and comes back like nothing ever happened. I read once that little kids hate the attention on them when they're training cause it's kinda weird for them. I get it, I guess.
Zayn must notice too, since he comes to stand next to me with both boys in his arms. "Look, babe. It's housebroken."
Sigh.
//
"Oh my God, I think I'm more excited than the both of you!" Talia exclaims, crossing her legs as she sits on the couch, displaying the final product in front of us. She's wearing a pair of skintight jeans, with a white turtleneck tucked in and some sparkly Uggs that I don't think I've ever seen on the shelf. It's not fricking fair, honestly. How does she always look so...perfect? No wonder...no. I won't do this to myself. "And by the way, breakfast was amazing, Charlie."
"Hey, what about me?" Zayn somewhat pouts. "How do you know I didn't make breakfast?"
"Because it's actually good," Talia answers swiftly. "I don't know if you recall, but there was one time you tried to make us one of those Elio's pizzas and you forgot to take it out of the oven." She directs her attention back to me. "Needless to say, we didn't have any pizza that night. And I had to replace the oven in my apartment. And my neighbors were pretty mad at me when they had to get up in the middle of the night when the smoke detectors went off and the fire department came."
"Well if I recall, there was a reason the pizza got burned. We were a little...preoccupied." I know he just didn't...
I look up at Zayn sharply. And now I remember why I've got to keep this strictly professional with Talia. How could I forget? My husband used to shove his tongue down her throat. And to my knowledge, that's about as far as they went. But you never know...
I feel petty Charlie rising...
Talia blushes, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Sooo, those invitations..."
Very good.
Zayn puts his hand on my knee, but I whack it off. Not today, buddy. Not today. I can feel his gaze penetrating the side of the my face, but he should know better than to mention what him and his ex used to do like it's no big deal. Not when I'm the one with the ring on my finger.
"Bab-"
"These are gorgeous, Talia," I say to her, cutting off Zayn. I run my fingers over the lace-like overlay. A thick, white ribbon wraps around, enclosing the invite. And of course there's a diamond-encrusted pearl between the two folds of the ribbon. It's absolutely breathtaking, I think to myself, as my fingers work to slip off the ribbon and fold open the lace covering.
I forget all about giving him the cold shoulder, because-
The honour of your presence is requested at the marriage of Charlotte Mallory and Zayn Javadd...the invite begins before going on to formally list the details of the event.
Holy fuck. It's happening. I'm getting married.
"Oh shit," I mumble. Holy mother of shit-balls it's happening. Like, forreal.
"It's lit," Zayn adds, his chin resting on my shoulder. "Rhyme." When I still can't form a proper sentence, Zayn turns to look at me, his nose grazing the side of my cheek, nuzzling almost. "Not having second thoughts, I hope?" He goes on to talk about how he's got some apologizing to do for his 'dumb ass comments,' but I just continue admiring the invite. This is so much more than I could have ever imagined.
"I don't...no. No, of course not." I look over at him, my nose meeting his. I definitely gave him an eskimo kiss. So we act like we're twelve, fight me. "Not a chance," I grin.
He mirrors my smile. "Good. Though even if you back out, you'll always be Mrs. Charlotte Mallory Malik." Creep. He frowns then.. "Though, I gotta say babe, it kinda sounds like shit..."
"Dick!"
Okay, so maybe it doesn't flow the best, but still. It's the...marriage that counts.
//
Well, people.
Here I am.
I've thought long and hard and I'm doing it. Mature and take-charge-of-her-own-life Charlie is on the rise. Hence why I had Zayn do a little bit of stalking and find my dad's address for me. I'm going to invite my dad to the wedding.
Yeah, me too.
And while I know he'll be all for it, I do fear rejection. But can you blame me? I've come a really long way, but like, a part of me will always be that small girl who fears that she just isn't good enough, not even for her own father. Again.
What if he doesn't come? What if he was just hinting around to an invite so that he could clear his conscience? What if he doesn't actually want to-
"Charlie?" His voice is laced with concern as we both stare between each other and my fist that apparently was continuously knocking. I didn't even realize. "How...um..."
"Hey, yeah...I," I start, scratching at my elbow. "Yeah. Sorry for just showing up like this, but," I sigh. I opt for just handing him the invitation over actually explaining why I'm here. He looks confused, but tears open the envelope.
"I know it's probably like, super weird because we literally just met, but I think it would be nice for you to be there. You don't have to," I rush, noticing him reading over the invite. "But I-I think I'd like for you to be there."
He looks up at this with his eyebrow raised. "You think you want me to be there?"
"I mean, yeah. I would like for you to come. If you can. You can bring someone, if you want. You know, if you're remarried or whatever." It occurs to me just how little I know about him.
"I'm not. I've dated here and there, but nothing that lasted."
This is weird. "Oh."
"Yeah," he chuckles. "But yeah, I'd love to go, Charlie." His gaze meets mine as I bite my thumbnail (it's a nasty habit and I'm trying to kick it, okay). He looks like he's close to tears as he swallows. "Wow. I can't believe you're getting married."
"Same."
"And I seriously cannot express how much it means to me that you invited me to attend."
"Yeah, I mean, if you're not busy or whatever."
"I'm clearing my schedule for this. My daughter is getting married, so I think that trumps all."
I blush a little at his words and begin fidgeting with my sweater. I always pictured this moment, but definitely not like this. I pictured whoever I ended up with, doing it the old fashioned way and asking my parents permission for my hand in marriage. I pictured my step-dad giving him a hard time and my mother crying and helping me pick out a dress.
I definitely didn't picture marrying a guy like Zayn, who doesn't give a crap about what anyone thinks but those closest to him- sometimes- and completely circumventing my parents and just outright asking me to marry him. I didn't picture my step dad dying before he could give Zayn too much hell, before building that father-in-law, son-in-law relationship. I didn't think my mom would hate me so much and not want anything to do with me, much less end up marrying a man who I had a baby with at the age of nineteen. And I definitely didn't picture my birth father in the picture. Like, at all.
But this is good. It's different than how I planned, but you know what? Different is good.
//
"Jaan, I think maybe you should just like...consider it," Zayn says as the seamstress tucks and pulls at his waist. I frown, folding my arms across my chest. He watches me through the mirror, yelping when the pushpin sticks him in the tush.
I don't know how I ended up at the final tux fitting with Zayn. I think he told Talia not to come in an effort to distance himself after last week with the invitations. We have an understanding, though; if he screws up, the wedding is off and the family jewels are on the line because I will cut that shit off.
"Well if you weren't a super duper extra small, we wouldn't have to do so many alterations," I laugh, scrolling through my thread with my dad. Him and Zayn are trying to convince me to extend an invitation to my mother, even if just to clear my conscience. My dad seems to think that once the invitation is in her hand, she'll have a change of heart. And then I had to remind him that he doesn't know my mother and maybe it was a little harsh, but oh well.
"I'm still sexy though," Zee states, raising his hands as the woman slides the button up over his shoulders. "And my dick is the bomb dot com. Never had any complaints."
I'm mortified as the elderly seamstress begins coughing. If only he had a filter. But no such luck. And I think she just cursed him out in Italian. He just raises his eyebrows and blows her a kiss, and yeah, she definitely poked him with the push pin on purpose this time.
"Anyway, you're changing the subject. Your mum. The wedding. Invite her."
I get up and stretch. "And when did you become part of the Nora Dunn fanclub?"
He snorts. "Please. I dislike her as much as the next and it's no secret that she hates the shit outta me, but like...it's your mum. And since I can't invite mine, then...well. We invite yours."
And how can I argue with that?
"Ugh."
"I win," he says, turning to face me when the lady forcibly turns him. He glares at her and she curses him some more. "Dude, I can't wait for the honeymoon."
"Why? You're not getting lucky. You'll be lucky if-"
"Ugh, stop! Zayn, put me down!" I giggle when his arms are suddenly wrapped around my waist from behind and I'm being hoisted in the air and spun around.
"Wanna say that again? I won't what?" His husky voice sounds out.
I try to budge his arms off of me. "Won't be getting anything from m-"
I squeal when he twists one of my nipples. Sheesh.
"Now what I think you meant to say is, 'yes, daddy. Whatever you want.' "
"In your dreams," I laugh. "And you say I have a daddy kink. You're terrible."
He turns me around, holding me up by my butt. So naturally, I wrap my arms around his neck and lick his nose, to which he gives my tush a squeeze. "I've got big plans, babe, so brace yourself. We're trying anal that night. You know, I put my dick in your a-"
And now I'm coughing and the seamstress is cursing the both of us out. Fabulous.
//
So I let my dad and Zayn convince me to invite my mother to the wedding, hence why I've found myself standing at her front door.
I obviously didn't call first because she would probably have the cops waiting at the house when I arrived to escort me off the property.
I knock quickly, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible. My mother takes a bit longer to answer than my dad did, and I'm not too surprised when she answers the door with a scowl on her face. "What," she says flatly.
"How are you?" I ask her, realizing I haven't checked up on her since the custody hearing...where she pretty much admitted that I'm the reason she never had a relationship with her other daughter.
"Cut the shit, Charlie. What do you want?"
I feel that much smaller standing in front of her. But I came here with a purpose and I refuse to back down. "I wanted to give you this." I need to just rip the bandaid off, I suppose.
She gives me a onceover before finally taking the invitation from my hands. She opens the envelope and scans it quickly, the same blank expression on her face. "What is this?"
"An invitation to mine and Zayn's we-"
"I'm not a fucking idiot, Charlie. Obviously I know it's a wedding invitation. Why are you giving this to me?"
"Because. I-I want you to be there." And I do. I really do. I've thought about it and decided that it's not going to feel right if she's not there.
"So you want me to watch you seal your fate and continue on with the biggest mistake of your life?"
"I-"
"With someone who doesn't care about you?"
"He-"
"And pretend like I agree with what you're doing?"
I clench my fists.
"You couldn't pay me to go to this shit. It's bad enough you-"
"I'm not you!" I scream in her face, finally reaching my breaking point. I'm just so fed up. "I'm not you, God damn it, and I am not making a mistake! I love him and he loves me and we're happy. I'm sorry that it didn't work out for you, but you can't blame me for how your life turned out. It's not my fault that you never had a relationship with your other daughter. It's your fault! Yours!" I'm crying now. "You fucked it up when you decided to separate us. And you blaming me for that is such bullshit. You could have had the both of us, and now you're mad because I have a relationship with both of my kids and their father? How dare you. You have no right to hold that against me."
"Don't-"
"You're bitter, that's exactly what you are. You're bitter and jealous of your own daughter and you know what? Don't even bother bringing your negative energy to what's going to be the greatest day of my life. I don't want you the-"
And the next thing I know, I'm laying on the concrete, the palms of my hands scraped up from having slid a little. I feel the slight sting on the back of my thighs, my tights probably ripped and bare skin exposed to the harshness of the ground. She pushed me. She actually pushed me and I tumbled down the stairs and damn near out onto the sidewalk.
"Now maybe you'll stay the hell away from me." I'm definitely not shocked when she rips up the invitation to shreds, the pieces scattering on and around me when she throws them.
A/N: I know, I'm terrible. But I hope this was okaayyyy.
Only a few chapters left! :(
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