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February 9 - February 11, 2025
“We could’ve snuck in a quickie in the airport parking lot if you let me pick you up.” “Airport security would’ve turned it into prison roleplay in no time.”
I never realized “family bonding” is code for “who can yell the loudest.”
“You guys named me Oliver after the Olive Garden, while you named Sebastian after some shredded Roman sculpture.”
“As far as I’m concerned, you had me via immaculate conception.”
“But I bought the cutest tropical clothes.” “And I bought the cutest tropical island.”
“A flamethrower,” Romeo provides, brow arched. “For your shrubs. Remember?” “Right.” I stare at the monstrous thing, convinced I deserve a visit from the FBI, ATF, and every other three-letter agency.
“Not what I had in mind when I said I’d support your hobbies.”
“Things are changing, Ollie. You’re not alone. This time…” I squeeze his hand under the table, close enough for only us to hear. “If the sky falls, I’ll hold it up for you.”
My brother is a bastard. A sadistic, opportunistic troll in every sense of the word.
It’s almost time for my bride to walk down the aisle, and I’m so fucking amped up that I might keel over and hyperventilate my way into a heart attack.
“Is this the same guy who called marriage a cash-grab sequel?”
Zach holds me upright with a fistful of my suit jacket and the threat of a merciless ass whooping if my knees give in.
“I spent my life hoping my daughter has the strength to rise above her struggles, but now I’m trusting you to be her soft place to fall.”
“Promise me that when you hold her hand, you’ll hold it gently, and you’ll hold it forever.”
“It’s not too late to run.” “Run?” I arch a single brow. “Baby, if I run, it’s to chase you down. You’re stuck with me.”
“The sky isn’t falling,” my wife promises me. “We’re holding it up together.”
