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She likes him. She more than likes him. She’s a little in love with him—
I fucking burn for her.
She’s fallen asleep. In my arms. In the safety of my arms. What a privilege this is—to hold a sleeping beauty.
She puts her fingers over his mouth, silencing him. “You did nothing wrong,” she whispers. His lips purse into a kiss against her fingertips, and she removes her hand.
My chest constricts as if I’ve been kicked in the solar plexus. Betrothed? What medieval claptrap is this?
“But you can’t run every time we have a problem. Talk to me. Ask me questions. About anything. I’m here. I’ll listen. Argue with me. Shout at me. I’ll argue with you. I’ll shout at you. I’ll get it wrong. You’ll get it wrong. That’s all okay. But to resolve our differences, we have to communicate.”
“Babë,” Alessia says to her dad, “më duket se jam shtatzënë dhe ai është i ati.”
😂😂😂
