“There. We’re snuggling. Are you happy now?” “I will be,” she cackled, shifting closer to drape her long legs over my lap. “Once you do one more thing for me.” “Oh Jesus, what?” “Tell me that we’re friends.” “Molloy.” “Say it, Joe.” “Why?” “Because it matters.” “To who?” “To me.” Jesus Christ. Shifting uncomfortably, I let my shoulders sag before mumbling, “We’re friends.” “What was that?” “We’re friends.” She laughed. “I was hoping for something more along the lines of ‘Aoife, you’re my dearest, sexiest, most lovable, bestest friend in the whole wide world’.” “Don’t push your luck.” “But I’m
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