???
She clicks another photo.
“Yes—this one’s even better. I swear, if I started selling your photos, I’d be a millionaire in a week.” She pauses. “But why would I sell my man’s pictures? Never mind. Just keep going.”
She tilts her phone, adjusting the angle.
“You’re a work of art, Salvario De Falco.”
I smile at the way she mispronounces my last name. She always says it wrong, but I have no intention of correcting her. I like her version better.
“Yes, yes, yes—keep smiling!” She jumps around, clicking image after image.
My watch chimes at the last rep.
She pauses her photoshoot and sits on the mat—the one she claimed she’d use for workout but hasn’t touched so far.
The house gym is outside, so she suggested I work out in the back room that opens to the rear garden. One wall of it is made of glass, overlooking a flower garden.
“Finally… I have a picture of you smiling. And it’s so sexy.” She says it like she just won the lottery.
That’s how she reacts to everything. Finding joy in small things. Living fully in every moment.
I flip onto my stomach and start my push-ups. She goes back to her photoshoot.
“Stop. You’ve taken enough.” I mutter between reps.
“Just a few more.”
She clicks from far away, then inches closer. Then she lies down right in front of me.
“Look at the camera.”
I glance up. She grins wide and snaps more.
“Bring it closer,” I say.
She inches forward.
“More.”
She moves closer, until she’s within reach. I shift my weight to one arm, catch her wrist, and pull.
She yelps as I drag her across the floor. I set her phone aside, roll her onto her back, and trap her between my body and the floor.
“You’re all sweaty.” She trails a finger along my neck, nose scrunching.
“You said you’d work out with me. Let’s do it.”
She shakes her head, whining. “No. I don’t want to get sweaty.”
“Too bad. Too late to change your mind.” I push her sports bra up.
She taught me all the names of her different clothes yesterday.
I move down and peel away her yoga pants.
She keeps whining. “Nooo. Don’t be cruel.”
