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know that until that morning. Caleb stood next to me in the mirror.
He was 10 now, 4’10” tall, in a navy tuxedo. Vincent had given him his own pocket square. Caleb was carrying a small velvet pillow with two rings on it.
He had a single white rose pinned to his lapel. The rose had been cut that morning from the planter outside Trattoria Rosalia. “Mama,continue reading …
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