She broke the kiss and grabbed my hand. With a swish of her hips, she led me to the door. She stopped cold when she saw the envelope taped to the double doors. She turned to look at me with one eyebrow raised.

“Is this an eviction notice?” she asked.

“I did write it before we made up,” I said. “It occurred to me that if you were going to continue living here, we were going to have to renegotiate the rules.”

She weighed it in her palm. “It feels thick.”

I took her keys and unlocked the door. “We can talk about it inside.” I opened the door and led her inside, switching on the lights and noting that one French door was open a crack and Sir was asleep on his red blanket. He really needed a better name and a litter box.

Annabelle followed me into the living room. Her steps were slow as if she were walking to her doom. I felt terrible. What had seemed like a good idea while we were estranged suddenly felt like the stupidest thing I’d ever done in my life.

I held out my hand and said, “You know what? Why don’t we just destroy that? We can burn it. Pretend I never wrote it.”

She shook her head. “No, I need to see it.”

Uh-oh.

She slid her thumb under the flap, tearing it open. The sound seemed inordinately loud, and I started to sweat.

The sheets of paper fell to the floor, scattering around her feet. We both dropped into a crouch to retrieve them.

Annabelle snatched up two before I could stop her. She scanned the pages then she looked up at me, smiled, and burst into tears at the same time.

Then she read it out loud.

Goddess: Be advised that the

following is a list of rules that I

encourage you to read with an

open heart and mind:

Rule number one: I love you.

Rule number two: I love you.

Her voice wobbled and tears coursed down her cheeks. She glanced up at me and then at the second page she held.

She read more. “Rule number three hundred and ten: I love you. Oh, Nick, how many times did you write it?”

My throat was tight, my voice gruff, when I said, “One thousand.”

She sobbed. I glanced at the pages in my hands until I found the last one. I handed it to her.

She dropped one of the pages, wiped the tears from her face, and took it. She scanned the tail end of the nine hundred and nineties and then the one-thousandth I love you. Then she gasped. She tried to speak but she couldn’t get the words out, so I took the page and read it to her.

Rule number one thousand: I love you.

Your besotted landlord, who hopes you’ll consider him for the role of devoted husband.