#Chapter181
I throw the pasta and salad in my refrigerator, bending in to move over the vast amount of junk food and movie snacks that I went a bit overboard with, and pushing Arry’s favorite bottle of dressing in the door. Counting down the hours to him getting home. The last thing he text was he would call when he got to the airport, and I haven’t heard from him since. I know the day after a big fight is usually hectic for him with reporters, paparazzi and media vying for his attention, especially after a big win, and I hate this wall of silence. I have no clue when he’s even getting here. I lean in further to fish out a bottle of water and straighten up to close the door.
/"Miss me?/"
