“You don’t belong with them.” A deep swallow jostled his throat. “With whom do I belong?” He ran a trembling hand down his face, as though to scrub away his frustration. “Why couldn’t we have met in twenty years?” My heart bounced. Squeezed. Bounced. Squeezed. “Where do I belong, Seraph?” The feathered shafts whispered through the air of the small gallery as they finally began to retract. “With me, Celeste. You belong with me. To me.” And then he was stepping forward, filling my space. Filling all the space. “The same way I belong to you.” He unbuttoned his vest, then took my hand and
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