The Temporary Husband
Taking a sip, I dial his number again, I’m directed to voice mail.
Fuck!
The door bell rings, followed immediately by an urgent rap on the door.
“Ivan?” The name comes out as a slur, my spine straightening,
“He knows the code.”
Even so, I run to the door, stumbling a few times I run, it doesn’t matter, he’s come back to me, he’s here now, everything is fine again.
The door swings open and it’s a drunk Serene.
She giggles.
“Izzy Valentine! My favorite Valentine!!” she throws her arms around me, both of us stumble backward.