NICOLE
GOOD GLASS OF wine, a bold pair of lacy thongs creeping up my ass and a comfy night gown made me feel…I don’t know formidable?
Would you believe that?
The kids were already in bed, and Callan well tonight wasn’t about Callan.
He was in the army or Marines whatever he called it and I’m a hundred percent sure they survived a whole lot of weather conditions like drought or hypothermia. A little draft in the garage wouldn’t kill him.
Yet here I was trying to watch another thrilling episode of TOO HOT TO HANDLE, swirling red wine in my mouth and trying to convince myself I didn’t feel a pang of guilt invade my chest.
What if he died in there? Okay. I was being overdramatic and I hated myself for even caring this much.
