He shouldn’t be my type, but he is.
Had anyone asked me before I met Mikko, I would’ve said I didn’t have a type, but apparently, I was wrong.
And if that isn’t enough, I trust him; he’s the one I’d call if I needed help. The one to whom I’d tell my deepest darkest secrets because I know he’d never betray them. I’m forty years old and I’ve never trusted anyone like this before, not even my family.
No matter how hard I try to deny it to myself, I need to be honest. I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. I can’t imagine what my life would be like without him. So I have to try; I can’t let him slip through my fingers.
“No, you didn’t freak me out,” I croak, grimacing at both the pathetic sound that leaves my mouth and the lie. I never want to lie to him, so I take it back. “Yeah,
