He crossed to the desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a document of some sort. Returning to me, he held it out. I carefully took it from him. It was a letter. A letter he’d received from a hospital. I quickly read it and frowned. “You … you’ve booked an appointment to have your vasectomy reversed?” “You want kids, don’t you?” And then the tears fell. They just poured right down my face. There was no holding them back. Dane softly cursed again and caught my face with his hands.
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