Tristan Michelson
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I was grown as f**k, a thirty-seven-year-old man, but hearing Nicole calling me “baby” was doing crazy things to me. It was almost equivalent to her grabbing my heart in my chest and squeezing it. It was pathetic, but I couldn’t f*****g help myself.
I ran the bath in my master bathroom, adjusting the water temperature until it was hot but not scalding. I added some of the unscented bath oil I’d bought after I invited her to stay for a while last week.
While the tub filled, I ordered takeout from her favorite Italian place. I got pasta, garlic bread, and tiramisu for dessert. I wanted her to be fed and comfortable throughout her stay at my house. I wanted her to be so comfortable that she never wanted to leave.
When I stepped back into the bedroom, Nicole was sti
