With a plate of food he’d cooked for me on my lap and a bottle of coconut water in between his massive thighs and an empty glass on my nightstand, I was going to tell Aiden I loved him. I loved him. I loved him so much I would do just about anything for him. I loved him enough to risk spending the next four and a half years of my life with a man who would more than likely divorce me and move on with his career. Because fuck it, what was life if you didn’t live it and make the most out of it? What was life without loving someone who cared about you a lot more than he cared about anyone else?
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