long beat passes, during which I assume he won’t say anything, so I pick my book back up and start to read. But a few long minutes later, under his breath, I hear him. “You know, Peach, your mom might be cute, but she’s a real pain in the ass.” And honestly? I’ll call that one a win. * * * “So those books…they’re all romance?” he asks an hour or so later once I close my book for a short break, stretching my neck and pulling Peach from him into my lap for some snuggles. “Yup.” “What’s your favorite kind?” “What?” “There are different kinds, right? Like funny ones, sad ones…” I put a hand to my
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