again. “Let me go, Richard,” she says, finally switching to English. “Rose,” he forces her name, his voice so cold that the hairs on my arms rise. “Connor,” she says just as icily. “Stop.” Her yellow-green eyes assault him. He releases her arms, and I notice the white envelope clenched in her fist. “We’re having a girl,” she states like it’s a fact. It’s definitely not one. And then she starts opening and closing kitchen drawers, searching for something. “Rose,” Connor says again, his tone more even and temperate. “It’s okay. Just stop and breathe for a second.” She’s tuning him out. “Rose.” I
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