I stare in disbelief at the article in the newspaper.  It’s been eight months since I left my husband, and everything has changed.  My divorce is final, and the house has been slightly modified to my liking.  I have reconnected with old friends and finally have a bit of a social life.  Most importantly, though, I have written and self-published my first book.  A couple of weeks ago, it hit the New York Times Best Seller list, and now there is an article about me in the Ottawa Sun.

These past eight months have been filled with struggle and frustrations, but also more beauty than I have ever experienced.  I have used every emotion, heartache, and hurt to write the best book I could, and I know that somewhere out there, my father is proud of me.

I put the paper on the table and head to the kitchen, just as a loud rumble comes from outside.  I move towards the window and my heart skips when I see the large man climbing off the motorcycle out in my driveway.

I haven’t seen or heard from Hulk since that day he left me here to start my life, but I’ve thought of him every day since.  Rushing to the front door, I fling it open, just as he lifts his hand to knock.  We both stare at each other in surprise for what feels like forever, but in actuality, it’s only a second in time before I jump up, wrapping my body around him.

He laughs and hugs me tightly, stepping inside the house and closing the door behind him.  After a long moment, he sets me on my feet and grins down into my face.  “I read your book, Princess.  It was fuckin’ sexy as hell.”  I beam back at him, still shocked that he is actually here.  His hand shoots out and fists itself in my hair.  “So fuckin’ proud of you, baby.”

His lips hit mine in a frenzy, and together we clutch and pull at each other, not able to get close enough to be satisfied.  He tastes just as I remembered, and I don’t want it to ever end.  My heart drops when he pulls away, still holding my head in place by the hair at the nape of my neck.  We stare at each other with fire in our eyes before he finally says, “Please tell me you’re ready for me, Holly.”

I know what he means, and I can’t stop the tear that slides down my cheek.  All these months, while I had been sorting out the mess that was my life, Hulk had been back home, waiting.  And now it was time.

“I’m ready,” I whisper.

“Thank fuck,” he growls as his lips cover mine once more.