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“Do I look like I’m joking? If he’s dead, I’m going to find you and make a lanyard out of your fucking intestines. You have two more seconds. Tick tock.”
I know he’s alive. I know he’s fine. But I need to see him and touch him to get rid of every single doubt clouding my mind.
“Have you ever heard of the saying, ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned’?”
“My wife can have a bit of a temper. Unfortunately for you, she also has a phenomenal aim.”
“Mrs. Halenbeek is waiting downstairs,” Sergei says before I get a chance to ask. Mrs. Halenbeek. The sound of that will never get old.
In our relationship, there’s no question of who wears the pants. No. Ours is a question of who’s carrying the bigger gun.
After all, I’m here to look pretty next to my wife.
There are many benefits to having your wife as your unemployed-employed self-appointed bodyguard. The main one being that no matter what happens, or how far I go, she’ll kill anyone who attempts to harm me. And what is that if it isn’t true love?
As for Mathijs… I was just challenging myself to write about a blond love interest. The fact that he’s like a golden retriever was just a happy coincidence.
