Mitch pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it on the burgundy leather chair, then drained the rest of his beer and kicked off his shoes. Laying on the bed, he folded his hands behind his head, crossed his legs at the ankles, and stared at the ceiling, knowing Mindi was sound asleep.
He was sure this relationship meant more to him than it did to her. She was beautiful, and she had Ben and a home. Hell, they even had a dog.
He had his business and a house. He’d worked hard for his financial success and used to enjoy his freedom, travel, and women. But now he wanted more. Now he wanted substance. A wife, a home, a family.
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