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This was my reality now. Two kids. A house in the suburbs. And a confusing, chaotic woman whom I argued with daily. I almost laughed when I realized that was how the majority of people would describe marriage after ten years.
Colby didn’t seem to care what others thought. She only cared that the people she loved knew she loved them.
And for some reason, all I kept thinking about was the loss of her hand on my shoulder when she lifted it, and the compliment she’d just given me, and how it made me feel like I was on top of the world.
His laugh was low, sexy. “I still think you’re a hot mess.” “And I still think you have a perpetual stick up your ass.”
I’m beginning to think that the truly beautiful things in this world aren’t perfect. I don’t want perfect.”
No, what I needed was someone who would push me, make me laugh, someone who wouldn’t allow me to be a jackass just because my pencils weren’t straight or things weren’t going my way.
