The door to my bedroom opens, and my groan is involuntary. “You’re joking.” She stands there in the threshold, wearing one of my tees that may as well be a dress on her, and then she slightly lifts the hem, revealing the pair of my boxer briefs she’s planning to sleep in. “What’s yours is mine,” she teases. “Isn’t that how this whole marriage thing works?” “You can have literally whatever you want as long as you’re wearing that when you ask.”
