Jenna
The next thing I know, I’m being woken up by a loud banging on my front door.
Who the hell bangs on someone’s door so early?
I pull myself up slowly. Brandon and I fell asleep on the couch, me on his chest, his arms around me, protecting me as I slept.
How did we not make it to my bed?
I smile to myself. He looks so beautiful lying here.
Knock. Knock.
I run to the door if only to stop whoever it is from waking Brandon. It’s 8 a.m., for Christ’s sake. We didn’t sleep long.
Who honestly needs to be knocking on my door so early on a Sunday morning?
“Mother,”
Crap, how could I have forgotten our Sunday morning breakfast?
I don’t know why she puts me through this each Sunday. She brings food with her and watches me eat, never actually eating herself, before sending me off to vo
