We move out of the kitchen then, Christian making his way back to the little iron fireplace to continue stacking some logs while I head into the bathroom for a quick shower, wanting to wash the day off of me before we settle down for the night. I take my whiskey with me, wanting the peaceful buzz it

I lose myself completely to it for a second – to the feel of Christian’s mouth moving against mine, to the way his hair feels against my fingers as I slip them through his hair, to the way his hand slides down along my side with intent, with reverence. But when that palm hits one of the bruises on

Christian leans closer to me, cupping my face in his palm. “You’re real to me, Iris,” he whispers, holding my gaze steadily in a way that makes me catch my breath. “You’re maybe…the only real person in my life. Okay?” Slowly I nod, hearing him. He leans forward and presses his lips softly, almos

I burst out laughing when I observe myself in the full-length mirror, twisting to take in the effect of the makeshift outfit that we’ve crafted for me. “Christian, this is ridiculous!” I say, shaking my head at myself. “No it’s not, you look great!” he says, standing behind me and grinning proud

“Come on, Nic,” Christian sighs, starting towards the house. “Absolutely not,” Nico says, stepping down one step and holding out a hand towards Christian, his palm out flat to him. To my surprise, he glances at me. “Are you fucking serious with this, Chris? Her? You threw your life away for her?”