“I’m convinced the Creator used a miniature paintbrush and centuries of painstaking detail to create you.” “W-what?” “How else to make sense of your beauty?” A startled moan bubbles up. Who says something like that in the middle of the night? “Good looks fade,” I say, blowing him a kiss. “You’ll still love me when I’m old?” “Pfft! I can’t wait until we’re octogenarians. Viagra and insomnia, baby, who’s gonna stop us!”
