“I think they’re done being unhappy.” His knuckles graze along my cheekbone as he bites his lower lip with consideration. “I think it’s going to be a long, sometimes painful road. I don’t think it will be easy or quick. But…I think they’re ready to move forward. To start healing. I think your dad is ready to make up silly rhymes again and wear his ridiculous slippers. And maybe he’s not there yet, but he gave me his blessing to move to New York, knowing what that would mean, and…” His eyes slant, gaze skimming over my face. “I think he’ll get there…and we’re all going to feel pretty damn
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