Chloe (max verstappen's version)

So I reach up to the bed and pull down a blanket, the black velvet box tumbling down with it. I flick it open with my thumb and hold it out to her—to Olivia, to Liv, to O, to the absolute love of my life, who I definitely don’t deserve. I could live a million lifetimes and I still would never be worthy of her.
Faking Under the Mistletoe
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