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Getting Orla’s approval was a big accomplishment, but I suspected she’d be less benevolent if she found out the truth: that my engagement to her grandson was a complete and utter sham.
But the little girl was wrong. They weren’t gross; they were simply a part of him. Some people had freckles and moles; he had scars.
I knew all this already. I’d watched every interview and read every article she’d ever been mentioned in.
If you were my fiancée, I wouldn’t look at another woman. Entertainment or not.