“Are you worried about going to Paris alone?” he asks me. “You haven’t slept by yourself in four months.” “I can’t keep you forever, can I? Like a miniature Ryke Meadows carry-on or pocket-sized version?” I try hard not to smile at this. “I’m not a fucking teddy bear.” I gasp. “Really? I thought you were.” He chucks a pillow at my face. I smile so hard. He loves throwing things.
aw they're already cute!!
