Here For The Cake

38. Klein

Tonight at dinner,Paisley’s mom snapped a photo of me and Paisley. My elbow is propped on the table, my body turned into Paisley. She’s pressed into me, eyes closed, a hand cupping her mouth that doesn’t at all hide the way her laughter tugs up her cheeks. I’m smiling down at her.

Afterwards, when Paisley had gone to help Lausanne serve strawberry shortcake, Robyn asked me for my number and sent me the photo.

I made it my backdrop.

This afternoon Paisley called me a naughty man.

She has so many names for me. I have a few, too.

Whipped.

Fallen.

Fool.

I am a whipped fallen fool for Paisley Royce.