“So this is my home?” It breaks her heart that he feels the need to ask. “Yes. For as long as you want it.” He nods, tongue in his cheek. When he meets her eyes, there’s a determined edge to his stare. “Then I don’t want any more of your money.” Anna blinks, her lips parting around a gentle protest, but he doesn’t give her the opportunity. “If you pay me, it’s just a job that happens to come with meals and a roof,” he says, voice firm. “I don’t want that. Not anymore. I just—I want to be home for Christmas.” He takes a deep breath, swallowing, before he adds, “Please.” Anna gives him a
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