The Sick Wife, Lost Loretta [top 10 motivational books .TXT] 📗

“You look so beautiful, Milla,” he says softly.

I laugh at him. “I look like shit.”

“You look perfect to me,” he tells me. And then he bites his lip. A strange kind of expression comes into his face, and I feel heat creeping into my neck and face.

“Gabriel,” I say softly, and my tiredness fades, replaced by something else.

“Can you… undo just a few buttons on your pajama top?” he asks me in a hoarse voice. “I just… want to see a little more of you.”

The question makes my whole body respond, and heat floods my abdomen. It’s strange to me, a dizzying sensation—I haven’t felt desire for anyone in years. My hand lifts to follow his request, and I am blushing hotly, feeling guilty and excited at the time.

He stares at the bit of skin I’m exposing, and I can see that he’s aching for more. “Milla,” he whispers. “You’re stunning.”

“Should I take it off?” I ask.

“Please,” he responds. “I want to see all of you.”

He doesn’t know this yet, but I’ll probably do anything he asks. I’m getting addicted to feeling close to him, and making him happy.

Chapter 5

It’s just a whirlwind of falling, and I’m not sure how I let it happen to me.

In a matter of days, everything changes completely. I no longer feel like a dwarf or a random forest animal. I’m not an insignificant, supporting cast member—I’ve somehow become the princess in my own story again.

Gabriel calls me every moment he can. Under the pretense of checking up on Yvette, at first.

But we both know the truth, although we are scared to say it out loud. We become friends, and make each other laugh. We call each other out on our bullshit. Challenge each other. I read every single one of his books, and laugh my ass off at how much garbage he’s written, trying to convince himself and the whole world that he’s some super tough, cold, badass… but it doesn’t fool me. Not for one second. He doesn’t believe that LOVE IS DEAD or DEATH IS FINAL. It’s all some macho persona he crafted for the public.

I see the sweet, sensitive boy underneath that hard shell.

And the connection only grows between us. The attraction is intense. Every minute that we aren’t able to spend on the phone, while we are at work or around other people, we text. We have conversations about everything on the face of the planet, everything that matters to us. It isn’t long before I start to feel like he knows me better than anyone. He becomes the closest person to me, in my life… and I become the same to him.

The difference in me is noticeable to everyone. The sudden bounce in my step. I begin humming—actually humming and smiling to myself, while doing menial, disgusting tasks around the hospital. The patients think I’m insane, because I’m grinning like an idiot while emptying their bedpans. The doctors think I’m high, and the other nurses are positive that I’ve stolen Veronica’s cocaine and sprinkled it all over my cornflakes.

I begin to wear some eye makeup, just in case Gabriel randomly video calls me. Just a splash of eyeliner and mascara, but it makes a big difference to my confidence. I start taking care of myself more, and actually brushing and styling my hair in the morning. Lots of little things that I hadn’t even realized I no longer bothered to do. I begin to feel normal again, and much more like myself. Not just myself pre-pandemic… myself at my core, before anything bad ever happened to me. Before I ever had a shitty relationship, before I ever had my heart broken. Gabriel makes me feel brand new, healed, and hopeful.

He has woken up all the parts of me I thought had died long ago.

Even Dr. Mike started noticing me more and inviting me out for coffee.

I find it a bit strange that Mike is showing me attention now, after ignoring me for years—but I guess he is recently divorced and just starting to date again. I declined his offers to grab coffee, because it feels like I’m already seeing someone. Gabriel is all I can think about.

Gabriel’s face, his voice, and his body are always on my mind.

Oh my god… his body. These days, most of our video calls involve both of us removing all of our clothing. He’s so confident being naked, and I love the way he moves. Sometimes he even leaves the video call on while he showers, and it’s just the hottest and most intimate thing I’ve ever experienced. I feel like I’m right there beside him, and we always somehow end up having phone sex. Video sex? I don’t know what you call it, but even though it’s a long-distance, virtual thing where we touch ourselves instead of each other…. it is so hot. So, so hot.

And so satisfying. Almost magical, really.

I can’t imagine how it would feel to actually touch him.

But I need to interrupt this happy montage of perfection.

I’m an adult.

I’m not an idiot teenager. I’ve been through this before, I’ve seen it all before. And I tried so hard to stop it from happening. I tried so hard to slow it down. I tried to be logical and I tried to be reasonable. I tried everything I could to prevent myself from acting like a totally brainless, naïve, trusting child.

I have seen greater women than me brought down by love. My own mother killed herself because of the way my father mistreated her on a daily basis. Thank goodness his dementia has progressed so far that he can no longer remember all the hell he put us through. He can no longer remember being the first and original Huge Fucking Asshole of my life—so much that it killed the woman he loved. I’ve liked my father a lot better since the dementia erased some of his cruelty. But