“Sorry I got home so late,“ Barret grumbles as he makes his way through the entrance of his home. He looks exhausted, as usual.
You’re not surprised. The man is the definition of a workaholic and you’ve grown accustomed to staying over, squished between the arm of the couch and his sleeping angel, Marlene.
It really wasn’t an issue for you. You lived right next door after all. But Barret always felt bad for not being there enough.
“She give ya’ any trouble today?” he asks.
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