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“There’s a ring on your finger. I don’t care about the specifics, for all practical purposes, it means we’re a team. We handle shit together. I don’t care if you can do it on your own. You shouldn’t have to.”
“I made you a pie.” My chest went warm and cold, soft and tender, exposed to everything he’d say now. My words were nothing but a whisper. “But no one ever bakes for me.” “I do.” He did.
