“Let it never be said that I don’t love you,” Adele announced as she let herself into the kitchen.
Sandy just breathed, “Bless you.” How was it possible she felt worse today than she had when she woke up in Vegas yesterday? The fact that she’d barely slept last night probably had something to do with it. At least there hadn’t been a tribe of Campbells on her doorstep when she’d returned, for which she was pitifully grateful. She never expected to do the walk of shame at forty-nine years old.
She’d been a virgin when she’d married Waylan at eighteen. And in the years since her divorce, she’d gotten used to going without the intimacies of having a man in her bed. She didn’t have casual s*x. It simply wasn’t how she was wired. Besides, living in a town as tiny as Wishful, the pool of option
