Page 83 of The Marriage Mistake

This is the real Sammi.

And without a drop of tequila on her breath to boot.

For the first time in a while, I’m feeling genuinely hopeful.

I start to walk, ignoring the stares of curious locals as I go.

I don’t want to get ahead of myself here, but I may have gotten through to her after all.

Something’s different, that’s for damn sure.

My feet move over the uneven pavement, kicking up dust motes as I go.

The smells of Bangkok mingle in the air, overwhelming yet somehow inviting.

A smile creeps across my face, and before I know it, I’m whistling.

Fucking Sammi.

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