Page 245 of Tell Me I'm Enough

“Ohh, you woke up and chose violence today, huh, pretty girl?”

“Hey,” she fake-pouts. “I can’t control my dreams.”

I bury my face in her neck, making her squeal quietly as my hands go to her ribs.

“Okay, okay,” she laughs out. “He was blonde. He was blonde.”

I slowly kiss the spot where her collarbone sticks out, and then move to kiss her on the lips once. “Now, did this blonde have a name?” I ask, voice low.

She rolls her eyes, smirking. “Maybe…”

I stare at her, waiting for the answer.

Her smirk grows bigger, and I know she’s about to fuck with me some more. “His name was…Tanner.”

As soon as she says it, she braces for my attack. I move back to her neck, biting the spot I know drives her wild, and she laughs as I move down under the sheets, lifting up her tank top and lightly biting her stomach. I move lower, with her thigh next to my face now, and open my mouth like I’m about to bite her there too, then I look up at her, giving her one more chance.

“His name was Mason!” she squeals, pushing me away, still laughing.

I move back up and kiss her on the forehead. “That’s what I thought.”

“You are so jealous,” she teases.

“Jealous, territorial, protective, possessive, obsessed…” I keep naming off adjectives, using my fingers to count until I’ve used all ten. “Want me to keep going?”

She giggles and shakes her head. “You’re crazy.”

“For you,” I say, kissing her again.

We lay back on the bed, side by side, staring up at the ceiling, enjoying the quiet moment together—the only peaceful moment before the rest of this shitty day starts.

She shifts closer, resting her head on my chest. “Do you think,” she murmurs, “there’s such a thing as a perfect day?”

I snort quietly. “Nope.”

She tilts her head to look at me. “That was a fast answer.”

“Didn’t even have to think about it,” I quip.

“Why not?” she asks, curious.

“Because,” I say, getting a little more serious now, “if perfect days existed, they would ruin you.”

She frowns at that. “How so?”

“You’d spend the rest of your life chasing something that could never come back,” I tell her. “Or you’d just compare everything else to it. Nothing would ever be enough again or be able to meet the expectations you now have.”

She’s quiet for a moment before she smiles. “You’re exhausting, Sinclair.”

I huff out a laugh. “You asked.”

She rolls back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I think perfect days exist,” she says. “They’re just…small and unremarkable. You don’t even notice them until they’re gone.”

I turn my head, watching her as the light from the rising sun catches her face in the most perfect way.

“Like what?” I ask.

She shrugs. “Like waking up somewhere you feel safe, or laughing so hard that your stomach hurts, or just feeling…seen.”