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My angel murmurs incoherently in her sleep. I stroke her back and she settles, sighing, burrowing farther into the pillow. When I press a kiss to her temple, she murmurs my name. It’s like a thousand spear points piercing my heart. Who knew love would be such utter, f*****g misery? We spend the first evening together in almost total silence. After I decided to stay, A.J. made me those pancakes. They weren’t “s**t,” as he so eloquently described them; they were amazing. Even more amazing was his insistence on feeding them to me, forkful by fluffy forkful. It seemed really odd at first, but, in the spirit of “thou shalt follow my commandments” that we’d agreed on, I let him. Then I let him run me a hot bath in the giant claw-foot bathtub, put me in it, and wash my hair, along with every o
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