Gerrard’s POV
After drying myself off, I dress again in my pants, pulling the shirt that I tore from my wife’s body over my head, smiling as her scent wraps around me. Zara heads back into her bedroom, appearing moments later in a crop top and pair of sweats, tying her wet hair up in a messy bun just as a knock sounds from the door.
I usher her away, striding to the front door and opening it to a skinny kid of about eighteen who I has two bags of food in one hand, and a large parcel tucked under his other arm.
‘Mr Tierra?’ he asks uncertainly, no doubt wondering why someone in this type of property looks like me.
I nod, taking the box and bags, placing them inside the door, before pulling out my wallet from my back pocket. Peeling off a hundred dollar bill, I hand it over as the kid’s
