The thing about loving a powerful man is knowing when to stand back and let him take the reins. Today I’m doing just that. “What is he doing out there?” Patrick frowns. I dip my head to peer out the window and onto the front porch to see Tristan pacing, hands on hips, muttering to himself. He’s been up since five o’clock, dressed in his suit, and ready for battle. Mrs. Henderson is going down . . . and to be honest I feel like calling ahead and warning her. She needs to run.
Oh this is funny
