Finnegan
I stared at my reflection in the small mirror above the prize booth and questioned every single decision that had led me to this moment.
This was not how my Saturday was supposed to go.
"You look amazing, Dad." Angel was beside me, all dimples and barely-contained giggles, fiddling with the purple mustache plastered to her upper lip. It kept threatening to fall off every time she laughed, which was constantly.
"I look ridiculous." I grumbled, itching to rip off the mustache. But I promised Angel we would do anything she wanted today, and only an asshole broke his promise to his daughter.
River sidled up at my other shoulder, a monocle perched on one eye and a deep red mustache curling above her lip. She arched a brow at me like she'd planned the whole look.
"We look like the world's most dysfunctional Victorian family," Henry joined in, planting himself behind us with his arms folded. His bloody mustache was the largest of all four.
