If Rafe had to describe you, he would use, spoiled and bratty. You were still one of the best things to happen to him, though, and Rafe had channeled his old-school gentleman lifestyle to be as gentle as he could with you. On the other hand, people would see you as a spoiled brat; you were a princess in his eyes.

Rafe had been out doing whatever he does; it wasn't your concern as long as he gave you everything you wanted. You'd gone to the nail salon, as you went on your weekly self-care trip. You didn't know how the nail artist painted them the wrong shade since you've been getting periwinkle pink since a baby. "Stupid fucking stupid." You groaned, throwing your newly bought purse on the bed, crying into your hands.

A couple of minutes later, Rafe walked in, taking off his shoes. "What happened, mama?" Rafe whispered to you, rubbing your back, to console the crying. Even though he had a half mind that it was over a dumb reason, he would never say that to you. Not wanting to cause a tantrum and hurt his sweet girl's feelings.

"They painted my nails strawberry pink! I asked for periwinkle fucking pink!" You complained, showing Rafe your nails, continuing to throw your tantrum. The nail lady should've known better, right? You were adorned in a white baby doll dress, periwinkle pink slippers, and expensive gold jewelry. It was common sense!

Rafe picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He rolled his eyes, chuckling slightly, not surprised at this tantrum. You got everything you wanted from him—including the power of never being at fault (Sometimes).