Cleo opened the bag, pushing the pale pink tissue paper aside and slid her hands around the neck of a glass bottle. “Pink moscato. The boy can pick a wine.” Molly plucked the bottle from her hands and admired the bottle. “For you at least. The rest of us have standards. Would it have killed him to grab a good Merlot?” “Ew.” Cleo wrinkled her nose in disgust. “He knows I’d never touch the stuff.” “Yes, but I feel like he needs to work harder to win over your best friend.” Cleo pulled a raspberry lemonade scented bath bomb from the bag, followed by a pink clay face mask, a multi-pack of Russell
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