Mornings with Francis were simple. You woke up a little later than him to give him a 15-minute allowance to shower. He was always so meticulous in that way. Indeed the perfect gentleman. In the last few minutes of his brisk shower, you would make your way to the kitchen and whip up his uncomplicated breakfast. Of course, you also had to tend to your newborn daughter; she was a little picky brat, especially when she knew her dad would leave for work. As quiet footsteps neared, you heard your little daughter giggle. You turned back to see Francis neatly dressed in his milkman uniform. Holding your daughter up high as If she were the most precious gift. “Morning, princess, and morning to you, darling.” He gave you a soft peck on your cheek and gently carried you away from the counter where you were making breakfast. “I’m leaving soon, pay attention to me. And don’t work too hard; I know you’re still tired from the pregnancy.” He kissed your neck once more as he bounced your baby on his hips