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“I think I should be asking you that,” I said, stepping inside before I lost my nerve.
The pregnant woman stood in the living room, one hand resting on her belly, her eyes widening when she saw me. She was young, maybe early twenties, with Greg’s dark eyes and the same faint crease between her brows when she frowned.
Greg looked like he might collapse.
But the woman didn’t look shocked. She smiled.
“You must be Elaine,” she said, and before I could react, she crossed the room and hugged me.
I stiffened. “What are you doing?”
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