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“If you don’t give my son a boy this time,” she said calmly, “you and your girls can crawl back to your parents. I won’t have Derek trapped in a house full of females.”
I turned off the stove. Looked at Derek.
“You’re okay with that?” I asked.
He leaned back, smirking. “So when are you leaving?”
My legs went weak.
“Seriously? You’re fine with your mom talking like our daughters aren’t enough?”
He shrugged. “I’m 35, Claire. I need a son.”
Something in me cracked.
After that, Patricia started leaving empty boxes in the hallway.
“Just getting ready,” she’d say. “No point waiting until the last minute.”
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