Mummy, Please Marry Uncle Biker Daddy
Meanwhile, Lily is sitting beside Oliver’s baby chair showing him pictures of dresses on a tablet even though he’s four months old and literally cannot care.
“This one is prettier,” she tells him seriously.
Oliver drools on himself.
Cole walks into the kitchen halfway through the chaos wearing a black t-shirt and jeans, Oliver’s bottle in one hand and his phone in the other.
“What’s happening now,” he asks carefully.
“Your future wife hates joy,” Rhea replies instantly.
“I hate stupid wedding entrances,” I correct.
Cole glances at me.
Then at Rhea.
Then at Jax.
“I stay out of these conversations for personal reasons,” he says before grabbing coffee.