I’m Not the Problem Here

It’s been… however many months since a dozen fancy cupcakes saved me from a tropological death.

box of six beautifully decorated gourmet cupcakes; three pink roses with pearls, three sugary snowballs

The “please don’t hate me” assortment.

You’ve probably forgotten all about certain promises, but I have not. Because I’m… you know. Husband, on the other hand, doesn’t know me at all.

Don’t stop now – keep reading!

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