I head to my bedroom first, absently wondering if it will be weird if I pop my head into her room to check on her. But those thoughts come to a screeching halt when I step into my darkened room and see copper hair floating across my pillows. The light from the hallway illuminates her creamy, pale arm wrapped around Luke’s tiny body. My heart seizes in my chest. Stops right in its fucking tracks. And I can’t look away. I let myself stare, shoulder propped against the doorframe, arms crossed against my chest—my only armor against the intense feelings the sight of Willa snuggling my son stirs up
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