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selfish adults can be.”
She nodded.
“But?”
“But I like who we became after we stopped pretending.”
She smiled.
“Me too.”
Four years after Hawaii, I hosted a summer dinner on my balcony.
Not Thanksgiving.
Not Christmas.
No holiday pressure.
No historical ghosts.
Just dinner.
Tyler and Brooke came with the boys, who were now old enough to eat like wolves and complain continue reading …
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