Few weeks

Winona

W

e got along more than fine.

Sebastian moved mountains for me when he needed to.

He wasn’t home much, but food was brought in most of the time for me. The days

he was home, he cooked. Like, gourmet-meal cooked. He made pesto chicken with arugula and prosciutto one night, and I seriously almost took him to bed.

We’d lived together two weeks, and the man was pretty much a saint every time he walked in. He removed his shoes, was quiet if he returned at night, cleaned up after me and himself. He even let me watch the shows I wanted to. Georgie always had on the news and wanted to talk politics, and Jimmy wanted to watch porn and do things a teenage girl shouldn’t be doing.

Sebastian was incomparable to the others. He was like a Stepford boyfriend.

“Want me to change the channel?” I asked one night while he scrolled his phone, sprawled out on the oversize chair near the couch. I realized that a historical romance with a duke telling the main character he wanted to marry her might n