Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Jory: And Italy. I really want to go to Italy.
Sam: Italy’s definitely on the list.
Jory: I guess our empty-nester plan is to have lots of adventures together.
Sam: Life with you is always an adventure, but as long as we’re together, I’m good.
Jory: Awww. That was nice.
Sam: I’m always nice.
Jory: Yes, you are.
DEAR JORY:
What are your husband and his marshals up to these days? Any exciting or dangerous cases? Is your husband still out there in the trenches, and if yes, how do you handle it?
Jory: Sadly, I don’t know anything about any cases that my husband is working on until I see him on the five o’clock news, catch something online, or see it in the newspaper. We don’t talk shop because he’s not allowed to. I can ask about something later, but I can only ask about his feelings or how others dealt with the situation. Specifics are a no-no. But yes, he is very much still in the trenches, although he doesn’t normally go out on fugitive pickups anymore—thank God—and isn’t away for months at a time on some kind of task force.
Sam: No comment.
Jory: Really?
Sam: Yes, really.
Jory: You have nothing to say about how you handle being a marshal?
Sam: It’s my job, what is there to handle?
Jory: Just…to answer the other part of the question, I deal with my husband being a marshal the same way I dealt with him being a policeman. I tell him I love him every day when he leaves, I tell him I love him on the phone when he checks in with me during the day, and I hug him super tight when he gets home from work. I make sure he knows he’s loved. It’s all I can do. I’m sure it’s the same for military partners and really so many people these days. We live in scary times, best to let the people in your life know that they are so very, very loved.
Sam: Yeah. I know I’m loved.
Jory: Because I tell you and show you.
Sam: And because you screw my brains out.
Jory: Ohmygod.
Sam: What?
DEAR JORY:
Since it’s been mentioned in the past about how well your husband dresses, does he do that himself, or do you pick his clothes for him?
Jory: I pick out my husband’s clothes. I buy them, wash them, he irons them because he’s really good at it, and then I hang them up in his closet because that piece he can’t manage. When he goes to work looking like he just stepped off the cover of GQ—that’s ninety percent me. Again, he irons. But how he’s put together, what he leaves the house wearing, I take full credit for that. I love doing it; it makes me crazy happy because anyone who knows me knows I’m a bit of a control freak.
Sam: A bit?
Jory: Don’t push it.
Sam: I buy my own clothes.
Jory: When?
Sam: I have to think.
Jory: I know his size in everything, and I know what colors complement his complexion, what cuts of clothing look best on him, and what brands fit him best. The man has been perfectly styled and accessorized since we moved in together. Even things he throws on Saturday morning to go get bagels and lox are first approved by me. Running clothes, going-fishing clothes—except the hat, I take no responsibility for the hat—and even clothes that he’s wearing when he’s doing home repairs, that’s all me. When I first moved in, there was a lot of camo, denim, and Dockers. And khaki. So much khaki. But over the years his style has become sleek and polished.
Sam: And you’re taking all the credit?
Jory: Well, it’s very helpful when your husband is drop-dead gorgeous.
Sam: That’s not what I mean.
Jory: Oh! You mean Dane.
Sam: Yes, I mean Dane.
Jory: Don’t be snide. And yes, I learned at the feet of the master. I didn’t know anything about real fashion until I went to work for my brother, Dane. He has never worn anything in his life, even in middle school and high school—and I know, I’ve seen pictures—that was not on point fashion-wise. He’s never been one who followed fads, like I did, or anything else. Dane is disgusting. He’s practically perfect, and because I was with him all the time, I picked up everything he knows.
Sam: Is that right?
Jory: Yes.
Sam: So you have nothing he wouldn’t approve of?
Jory: Of course not.
Sam: What about your red leather pants?
Jory: They’re whimsical.
Sam: They’re hot, especially how they lace over your package, but would Dane approve?
Jory: I think Aja has red leather pants too.
Sam: Okay. Weird area. Nevermind.
Jory: Just agree with the statement that you look amazing because I dress you.
Sam: Agreed.
Jory: I might pass out with you agree––
Sam: You think I look amazing?
Jory: Yes, of course.
Sam: All the time?
Jory: All the time. Every day.
Sam: But you like me naked best, right?