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been waiting for you.”
Tears burned behind my eyes.
Nobody else would ever understand what it meant to hear tenderness come from a man like Damen Moretti.
He looked up at me finally, still holding our son carefully against his chest.
“He has your eyes,” he murmured. “Thank God.”
I laughed softly through tears.
Damen smiled then.
A real smile.
Warm enough to continue reading …
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