“Hey,” I greet her, my hand extending to clasp hers. “They smell amazing.” Her joy flickers back to life. “Yeah? I’m a little impressed I didn’t burn them,” she says, ducking her chin to her chest. “I used Grams’s recipe. I always thought they were the best.” June’s words hardly register. The brownies are forgotten as I lift both hands to cradle her cheeks, moving in to her until our chests kiss. “Are you happy?” I ask softly. There’s a catch in my voice, sounding louder than my words. Worry claims her pretty features, and she reaches up to hold my wrists. “Of course I’m happy. I’m so happy.”
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