Page 45 of The Interview

“Language, Kitten.”

“Fuck off and tell me what the something else is,” she demands.

I flip us over so I can get a better look at her face.

“I made sure that every deal Haley White scored was laced with something nasty. Nothing that would kill her, but that would, after years of abusing her system, cause her major issues.”

I watch as she closes her eyes and feel her still beneath me.

“Kitten?” I question when it feels like she’s been holding her breath for far too long.

“Shh,” she hisses. Her eyes open and meet mine. She looks over my left shoulder, then my right, before her gaze lands back on mine.

“What’re you doing?”

“Trying to find a fuck to give,” she replies with a frown.

My laughter is loud and instant as she smiles back at me.

“Fuck me, I love you. You are so fucking perfect,” I say before pressing my lips to hers.

“I’m lying here with you, laughing at the deaths of two people. I’m definitely not perfect.”

“You’re perfect for me, that’s all that matters.”

Her eyes instantly shine with tears, so I kiss her again.

“Don’t cry. There’s been enough of that today.”

“What did you say to the girls?”

“What?” I ask, my brows pulled into a frown in confusion. “What girls?”

“Our girls. You went into their rooms before you came to bed. I heard you talking.

“I went into KiKi’s room because I knew that’s where they’d probably both be. Kiks won’t go to Lu’s because she’s as untidy as her mother.”

“Lu’s room’s tidy. I did it myself a couple of weeks ago. She hasn’t stayed here in that time.”

“She came here last Saturday morning looking for a dress, and she’s been here today. Believe me when I tell you it’s a fucking mess.”

“Okay, well, whatever. And fuck you that she’s like her mother.”

“Kitten,” I say on an exhale. “For someone with OCD, which, by the way, is another conversation we’ll be having…”

“Can’t wait,” she mumbles quietly.

Remember me saying sometimes my wife can be a bit of a cunt. This is her demonstrating said skill.

“For someone with OCD?—”

“OCPD,” she corrects me.

“OCPD, you are the untidiest person I know.”

“The only place I ever allow to be untidy is here, our bedroom, wardrobe, and bathroom. And that’s because the therapist I saw told me to pick one space that I could leave messy just to remind myself that the world wouldn’t end if I didn’t make my bed or didn’t hang up a wet towel.”

“Technically, you picked three spaces.”