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“And Andrew always defended his mother,” she added. “Always.”
“But Andrew’s kind,” I blurted. “He’s… he’s not like that.”
“Until he’s uncomfortable.”
She let go of my arm and smiled as if she’d never said any of it.
“Go get some cake, sweetheart,” she said, and walked away.
I stood there in the hallway, heartbeat in my ears, trying to decide if she’d warned me or poisoned me.
For a while, I chose to believe she’d exaggerated.
Because on the surface, everything still looked perfect.
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