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The ugliness of life is that sometimes we can’t undo what has been done.
“Do you still hate me?” I asked, repeating the very same question every day.
“How can I hate you, Julianna?” he said huskily.
I was going to be a father. But where the fuck was my woman?
“No, Julianna. You can’t. I fucking died a thousand deaths watching you lay so helplessly in this bed for the last five days, not knowing if you were going to make it or not.”
His hand tightened around my hips. “You like me bossy.”
