My Husband Chose Intern, I Chose Racing Prodigy
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Summary
At one in the morning, my husband Grayson's phone lit up.
A message from Leah popped up on the screen:
[I sprained my ankle during rehearsal. It hurts so bad I can't sleep. Can you come hold me?]
Watching Grayson throw on his clothes, I leaned back against the headboard and nearly laughed out loud.
She was pouting in the middle of the night and making a married man drive halfway across Seattle to take care of her. For a twenty-two-year-old dance academy intern, she really wasn't very considerate.
At least nowhere near as thoughtful as a certain sports science major I knew.
