I….alph,” she mouthed at me, stopping in front of a tall bloke with wavy black hair and liquid brown eyes. “…. e … he ... I ... d ... yo… ...t.” I nodded as my brain struggled to fill in the missing spaces in the sentence. He held out his hand and I took it. His paw was large and dry and warm and the look in his eyes said that he’d rather have been somewhere else. He was good looking in an outdoors, rugged sort of way, with a neatly-groomed designer stubble decorating his solid jaw-line. There. She truly made every effort to ensure my survival, stopping by occasionally to make me dinner, clean my place up, and take care of her only c***d. She knew all too well the heartbreaking pains of a divorce. Dad left her when I was five years old, and since then, it was just her and I. We had a deeply trusting relationship, and now that her c***d was licking the wounds of divorce, she faithfully made sure that I was okay. She spent vast amounts of money to properly guarantee that I was okay. One. More

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