My father stood at the front door staring at Aston as if he were some sort of alien rather than an eighteen-year-old boy who had an interest in his daughter. My guess was he wasn’t too keen on having said boy show him up. Aston had brought flowers for my mother this time, so my father knew it was only a matter of time before he had to up his own game.
Chapter Six - Breakfast at Tiffany's
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