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“Zander,” I breathe. “That’s it, baby. And when you come, you say my fucking name.”
“Are you real?” I don’t reply, waiting for her to continue. “Men don’t do this. They don’t take accountability. They don’t instantly realize they were assholes.” “When they’re so in love, they’re terrified to lose their woman because they spoke without thinking, fuck yes they do.”
“You were made for me, Zoe. If you didn’t figure that out over the past thirty fucking years together, you need to realize it now, with my fucking cock in you, when you fit so fucking perfect around me.”
“When I was a kid, every trip we went on, my dad would buy a Christmas ornament,” I’d said. “An ornament?” “Yeah. My mom would pack it away, and then every year, we’d remember all the family trips we went on. Putting the tree up was fun because we’d talk about all the places we’d been, even if it was just ten ornaments from the shore or the Poconos.” I’d shrugged, moving on. “Just a good memory, you know?”
