Angelo rubbed his hands together as he peered at the cinnamon rolls in the oven. He’d put on at least ten pounds since I married Sofiya. Not that I had a leg to stand on—I’d been forced to add an extra workout to my week with all the sweets my wife made. “What are you wearing?” Romeo asked me, a glint of laughter in his eyes. “A beautiful sweater made by my wife,” I said before he could say another word. No one would insult my Sofiya. “Oh, don’t be jealous, Romeo,” Sofiya said. “Miliy, can you get those three packages from the top of the pile?” I did what she asked, grinning as I handed Romeo
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