Synopsis
She couldn't figure out why he wouldn't sign the papers. Every single night, he wanted her in bed to keep him warm. His excuse? Winter chill. Fair enough. But then the seasons changed—summer arrived, blazing hot—and somehow she was *still* expected to be there warming the mattress. That's when she snapped:
"I'm done. Get me a divorce."
He just grinned that infuriating grin of his and said, "A divorce? Sure thing. Just agree to my two terms first."
"What terms?"
"Either you spoil me rotten, or I spoil you rotten. For ten thousand years."
