Page 105 of Yours, Now and Always
“Oh my GOD. Youthroated the beastand then left him to die? This is abuse. Marital abuse. Is he okay? Like—medically? Do we need to send electrolytes?”
“He’s fine.”
“He’s not fine. That man’s balls are probably registered as small volcanic pressure zones right now.”
“Jesus.”
“I’m serious. Gage Black—CEO of Edge-Lord Enterprises, Breaker of Spines, King of Ferality, King of the Thrust, First of His Name—is just out here...what? Meditating through it? Drinking tea and vibing?”
“Mostly he’s been cooking.”
“COOKING?”
“Yes.”
“Oh no. No no no. If that man is out there roasting root vegetables instead of railing his legally bound soulmate, something is deeply fucking broken. I swear to God, if he starts journaling, I’m calling the FBI.”
“He made pancakes shaped like Iceland yesterday.”
Tim makes a noise I can only describe as spiritual distress. “Oh my God. He’s edging himself into domesticity. This is worse than I thought.”
I try not to laugh but fail. “You’re being dramatic.”
“No, Amelia.You’rebeing dramatic. You married the human embodiment of sexual tension, and then immediately put him on a one-week no-fuck cleanse. This is psychological warfare. Geneva Convention–level shit.”
“He’s fine.”
“Is he though?” Tim lowers his voice. “Is he in the shower right now?”
“Yes.”
“You know what he’s doing in there.”
“Tim—”
“He is absolutely, one thousand percent, in that showerstress-jerkingwhile trying to manifest divine patience.”
“Timothy. Lee. Sinclair. Stop.”
“I’m picturing him bracing one hand on the wall,” he continues, on a roll now, “steam rising, jaw clenched, trying to remember his vows while aggressively avoiding eye contact with the conditioner bottle.”
“Oh my God.”
“Babe.Babe. Be honest. Is the water pressure suffering from the sheer force of his suppressed desire?”
“I am hanging up.”
“You are not! You called me. Youknewwhat this would be.”
I sigh loudly. “I called to check on Sarah.”
“She’s fine. She’s living her best life. I’m the one in distress. I just needed to know that your husband hasn’t exploded from restraint. Or worse—imploded.”
“He hasn’t.”
“Yet.”
“I’m really hanging up now.”
