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437 pages, Kindle Edition
Published May 12, 2026

𝑰 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆, 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒓. 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒔. 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒑𝒊𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒐𝒑 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒖𝒔𝒖𝒂𝒍 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒌𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔. 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒔 𝒔𝒐 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒐 𝒅𝒂𝒎𝒏 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆.

𝑰 𝒔𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒆𝒛𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒕𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒓, 𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒂𝒃𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒃 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒔𝒐 𝒘𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕. “𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒓,” 𝑰 𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆.
“𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐𝒐,” 𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒅𝒊𝒇𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒖𝒍𝒕.

“I want to put my arms around him and kiss the stale salt from his neck.”

“Connor, though, my precious little goldendoodle, may as well be the belle of the ball. I call it bottom bliss—when a dude gets fucked so right that it turns him into a Disney princess for the rest of the day. It’s the starry-eyed smiles and the extra flourish in Connor’s walk, like he’s on the verge of breaking into a song and dance number. I swear, when he comes back to the sofa with a fresh can of Coke, he does a half-twirl before plopping down beside me. It’s absolutely fucking adorable.”
“In a topsy-turvy way, Connor’s nerves ease my own. I guess I like it when he worries for the both of us. It makes his one eye kind of squinty and his mouth pucker small. Adorable.
“Of course I want you to come in with me,” I say. “I want you to come with me everywhere, but I refuse to be that evil of a boyfriend.”
He reaches up to pick a rogue curl off my forehead and fix it back into place. “You’re not evil at all. You’re an angel.”
I don’t know what’s funnier, the notion of me being in any way angelic or that Connor genuinely believes that shit. “You’re the angel, Connor. I’m just a recovering train wreck.”