Page 54 of Misconception (Unrequited 2)

Michaela:No, I’m dead to the world the second I close my eyes, but I wake up stiff and achy every morning. My belly’s pretty large and in charge.

Me:It’s only been nine days. You were pretty small last I saw you.

Michaela:Oh, do I have something to show you.

*picture attached*

Michaela:That’s my view these days.

Me:You’re a fucking goddess, Michaela.

Michaela:I know, right? And I definitely popped.

Me:You did. Jesus, my hands are twitching to touch you.

Michaela:Patience, grasshopper.

Michaela:Moses.

Me:Yes, Michaela?

Michaela:You had flowers delivered to my job.

Me:Did I? That was sweet of me.

Michaela:It was, and I get the thought. I appreciate the thought. But don’t do it again, okay?

Me:Wait, what? You’re mad at me for sending you flowers?

Michaela:No, I’m absolutely not mad. At all. I just can’t go gaga over gorgeous flowers like I really want to in front of these guys. When I get back, send me all the flowers you want, okay?

Me:I’m not sure you should be giving me that kind of permission.

Michaela:I think I’ll take my chances. You have a show tonight, right?

Me:Can’t believe you’re keeping track of my schedule and yours. I’m in Boston for the night.

Michaela:Excited?

Me:Crawling out of my skin. I need to get out there—pump some adrenaline through my veins.

Michaela:I was going to ask for something, but then I thought maybe it’s blurry.

Me:I’m all about the blurry. Now you gotta ask.

Michaela:Can you send me some pics from tonight?

Me:What would you like pics of? I’m going to need you to be specific.

Michaela:You. On stage, off stage. Sweaty, with your guitar. Do you still wear those tight leather pants? If so, I’d like a pic of those too.

Michaela:OMG, I sound lecherous. Ignore me.

Me:You know how happy it makes me that you want pictures of me? I’m your husband, Mic. I’m yours. Ask, and I’ll give it to you.

Michaela:See, this is why I shouldn’t have asked.

Me:But you did. I’m not letting you take it back.

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