MINE. STILL.
Calm as ever, he was stroking Nacho and Butters, two of my five fur babies, who had apparently claimed his lap as their imperial throne.
“At least there are two creatures in this house not demanding I live with my amnesiac ex-husband,” I muttered, scooping some salad.
“What was that?!” Mama’s brows knitted together.
“Nothing. Talking to the broccoli,” I said quickly.
Dante smirked. “Most people confide in God or a best friend. You talk to vegetables. Cool.”
I pointed my spoon at him. “One more word and this broccoli goes straight up your nostril.”
Damian chuckled under his breath, sliding a piece of chicken onto my plate. “Eat. Looks like you need protein. And therapy. But let’s start with t
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