Ümmühan
@_ummu
“Allow me to make myself clear. I don’t give a pickled fuck how or why we came to be married. You are my wife. If you need some fun, you’ll call me. I’ll be the one taking care of you. I’ll give you anything you want, including a properly prepared gin and tonic. If you can’t accept that, you’re welcome to divorce me now.”
Bu yaz yanınızdan ayırmak istemeyeceğiniz kitapları sizin için bir araya getirdik.
💬 Siz olsanız bu listeden hangisiyle başlardınız?
“As your husband, I’m not allowed to be traumatized,” I said. “It’s the law.”
I didn’t care that I did terrible things to her in my mind. I didn’t care that she’d leave again and I’d never recover. I didn’t care because I knew what it felt like to hold her and kiss her and nothing else in the world mattered. Nothing fucking mattered.
It didn’t matter what happened next. If she disappeared from my life tomorrow. If she went back to Boston and gave up Twin Tulip. Even if she stayed though I could never touch her again.
None of it would matter because she’d kissed me back—and she’d loved every second of it.
She opened the driver’s door and climbed into the seat. She paused as if she meant to say something but waved again. I lifted my hand in response, watching as she drove away.
This time, when I heard that reminder, it said there goes your wife.