37
Sara
I wake up to the smell of coffee and bacon and the feeling of sunlight on my face. Confused, I open my eyes and see that it’s a half hour before my alarm is due to go off. As I attempt to process that, memories of last night invade my mind, and I groan, pulling the blanket over my head.
My Russian stalker is back—and cooking breakfast in my house.
After a minute, I convince myself to get up and go through my usual morning routine. Yes, my husband’s killer f****d me again last night—and made me come—but the world didn’t end, and I have to act accordingly.
I have to ignore the self-loathing knotting my insides and go to work.
Ten minutes later, I go downstairs, dressed and freshly showered. It’s strange, but I don’t feel any differently about Peter now that I know what he does
