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moved in slow arcs over the water. Milo drew things. Ethan read. I watched the light change over the Atlantic and thought about all the years I had let guilt about what I had make me unable to simply have it.
On the last morning, Milo looked up from her sketchbook and said, “I like it better when it’s just us.”
I looked at her.
“Do you think that makes continue reading …
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