Page 82 of Just My Type
Definitely the accident one.
Me
Savage, Han.
Hannah
What can I say? I’m spicy when I’m drunk.
Me
You’re hot as fuck when you’re drunk.
Hannah
I’m hot as fuck all the damn time.
Me
Bet your ass you are. My wife is the hottest woman in the entire world.
Hannah
Can I tell you a secret?
Me
You better.
Hannah
I like it when you call me your wife.
And I like wearing my ring when we go out and pretend to be married.
Me
No pretending about it, Gorgeous. We are married.
Hannah
Sometimes when I’m alone in my apartment I wear my ring. I like the way it feels on my finger.
Fuck. I should put a stop to this. I really, reallyshould. She’s saying these things because she’s drunk, and I know if she reads these messages back tomorrow, she’ll regret them all. But goddamn, this little window into her head is like a revelation. I know we sort of, kind of made things official last week on the Common—or as official as you can make a relationship when you’re already married. But I also know that even though she’s opened herself up to me a lot, there’s a piece of Hannah that’s still walled off from me. Any glimpse behind those walls feels like something to be treasured.
I dip my hand into my pocket, running my fingers over my wedding band that I secretly carry with me wherever I go and decide, what the hell?
Me
Can I tell you a secret?
Hannah
Always.
Me
I like wearing mine too. And I like being married to you.
