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A woman’s neck. Collarbone. And a gold crescent-moon necklace.
I bought that necklace.
My sister.
I sat there with Blake’s phone in my hand, mouth dry, heart beating like it was trying to escape.
The shower turned off.
I heard him walking toward the living room.
I put the phone back exactly where it was and forced my face into “sleepy wife” mode.
Blake came out with a towel around his waist, smiling.
He kissed my forehead.
“Hey, you,” he said.
I looked him dead in the face and said, “Tired.”
He rubbed my belly. “Hang in there, little peanut. Dad’s got you.”
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