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anyone before, not even Donald after the divorce.
A few nights later, after Ryan had gone home, Ava stood quietly in the doorway of my bedroom, twisting the sleeve of her hoodie while I folded laundry. Instantly, I felt uneasy.
“Mom,” she said softly, “please don’t let him move in.”
I stopped folding towels and sighed.
“Ava, you barely know him.”
“I know continue reading …
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