Savage
A week later, I’m watching a few boxes being carried into the penthouse. And I’m watching my wife come in with them. “You can just put these right here,” she says to the guys carrying everything in.
She left last night to go back to Willow’s Gap, to get the rest of her things and then flew back to meet the small moving truck. The only thing I’m seeing here is five boxes. “Is this all there was, Mal?”
“I got rid of most of my stuff when I moved from L.A., there isn’t a lot of it, and this is all I think I need. Who knows, as I go through it, I may not even need these five boxes.” She pushes her hair out of her face. “I’m sure the clothes I have probably aren’t glamorous enough to keep up with your lifestyle.”
“Which is why-” I give her a grin, “-this is yours, to do with what you want. To buy what you need, and to hopefully give you the okay to make this more your home.” I hand her an American Express Black Card with her name on it.