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My last date tried to rope me into a seance to contact his dead mother so she could “meet me and give her approval.”
One, Dante was going to be my fiancé. Two, we might kill each other before we ever made it to the altar.
Whether I liked her or not, Vivian was my fiancée, and I was getting damn tired of hearing her name leave his mouth.
Vivian’s laugh evoked a strange sensation in my chest. Heartburn? Investigate later.
“It says you’re mine. Puoi negarlo quanto vuoi, ma è la verità.”
“How does he look at me?” Janis smiled. “Like he never wants to look away.”
“Thought of you at midnight. Hope you’re doing well. Love, Heath.” Sarcasm weighed heavy on the recitation. “It doesn’t take a genius to know what he was doing while he was thinking of you at midnight.”
“I hate the idea of you touching anyone else, or anyone else touching you. I hate that other people can make you laugh in a way I can’t. I hate how I feel around you, like you’re the only person that can make me lose control when I. Don’t. Lose. Control.”
being with her was like breathing. Easy. Effortless. Essential.
“You can’t see the stars in New York,” Dante said. “So I brought the stars to you.”
