Page 20 of Bingeworthy
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He’s about to spray it on top of my slice of pie but instead, I point to my open mouth.
“Huh?”
I laugh. “Just spray it into my mouth,” I say.
“Phrasing,” he says, but does as I ask.
It’s all I can do not to spurt whipped cream out of my nose from laughing.
“I love you, Tiff.”
I sit back and stare up at him. “Now you.”
“Have I not humiliated myself enough tonight?”
“Go on,” I insist. “We may as well eat it all up and make more room in the fridge.”
“Well, if it’s for a good cause.” He leans back and sprays what remains of the can into his mouth.
“I love you too, Rocco.” And I have a feeling I will. For as long as there are Thanksgivings and pumpkin pies and movie marathons to be had.
THE END
