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She assisted me at the signing, always knowing what I needed before I did. Absolutely everything was better with her around. I knew before five minutes into the event that I’d never do another signing without her.

About halfway through she snuck me a glass of Scotch in a coffee cup that said, This might be wine.

When I realized what was in the cup, I sought her out with my eyes and raised my brows.

She moved close behind me to whisper in my ear. “You have this certain look you get. I call it your Scotch face. You were wearing it so I scrounged up some Scotch. Not the good stuff, but you’ll survive, muffin.”

“You complete me,” I told her solemnly, not looking back at her, not needing to, instead signing yet another book.

“That’s obvious.”

We flew to Philadelphia the next day and went through a similar routine.

We traveled well together. I was seasoned at it, and Ro, though she hadn’t traveled much, was no complainer and every delay and setback was taken in stride.

Every day Dair sent us pictures of Machiavelli being hugged by his adorable kids.

Me: No matter what happens,

you don’t get to keep our puppy.

Dair: That’s true but after

playing with this puppy for a week

I’m pretty sure we’re going to

have to get the kids another one.

Me: Be sure to do

yourself a favor and get

an actual dog and not a

Beanie Baby like we did.

Ro saw that text when I was showing her the latest pictures of Mac and smacked me on the arm.

“Are you offended on behalf of our Beanie Baby?” I asked her, amused.

“I am. You’re her daddy, have some loyalty.”

It was evening and we were in a hotel room, lounging on the bed. I grabbed her and pinned her underneath me. My words were a rasp into her ear. “Call me Daddy again, but this time in your phone voice.”

She giggled, and my switch was flipped.

I dragged her clothes off, talking all the while, telling her what I wanted her to say to me in her phone sex voice.

She just got quiet, shaking her head, not saying a word.

She didn’t speak to me until I was inside of her. Didn’t make a peep until I plugged her up tight.

I didn’t move once I was buried in her, just burrowed my root in hard and held myself there, feeling her, basking in my own little piece of paradise.

Her sex voice drifted to me in a soft, taunting drawl, “Get a move on, Daddy.”

The delirium took over, and I started moving with a purpose and didn’t stop until we were both a limp puddle of satiation.