Until I Wrote Him
I picked up the pen again and scrawled furiously:
“I will write this all down. Every messy, chaotic, stupid, wonderful thing. Every kiss, every curse, every goddamn feeling that makes me think I’ve gone insane. Roman will be immortalized as… the man who broke me and made me beg for it. And the title? I will figure it out. Maybe: ‘Chosen by Chaos.’ Or maybe… ‘My Billionaire, My Disaster.’ Hah! Perfect. Or not. Definitely needs work.”
I laughed at myself, a breathless, hysterical sound that made Dorsey snort again. Soup sloshed slightly. I ignored it, scribbling more.