Sharing My Home With Her Ex

Summary

When my best friend broke his leg and moved into our guest room, a fresh bouquet of flowers began appearing on our front porch every single afternoon.

Chad would lean heavily on his crutches, a smirk playing on his lips as he nudged my shoulder. "Ten years of marriage and you guys are still this obsessed with each other. I'm jealous, man."

I forced a smile, but my stomach tightened. I knew the truth. In a decade of marriage, my wife had never bought me a single flower. She wasn’t the romantic type, she always said. Pragmatic to a fault.