19. 19
Love? No. I’m not in love with Delaney Jones. She really likes pointing that out. However—attracted?
That’s a completely different story.
I’m pretty sure I’d have to be dead or a monk to not be attracted to the woman.
Nope, a monk would still feel the attraction. Death is my only hope.
Does she not realize that?
She’s lived enough life. She must. But she thinks I am some holy being, as she keeps referring to me as superdecent. Even the most decent of men couldn’t stop feeling stupidly attracted to her simply because love isn’t a factor.
What about like? Is like a factor? Because I like her. And decent as I am, I can’t help but notice her long legs, full lips, and a dozen other items I’m currently evicting from my brain.
I kick at the blanket wrapped around my feet.
This is an annoying problem to keep a man up at night.
Congratulations, Miles Bailey, you’re attracted to your wife. You’re also very much alone in your bed.
I roll over onto my side and force myself to play out that staph infection documentary that Coco made me watch with her last month. The one all about veterinarians who aren’t taking enough precautions and the effect it’s having on animals and their owners. It was a delight. Or quite the opposite. It about made me ill.
If that doesn’t get my mind off of Delaney Jones, I’m not sure what will.