ed on the pristine white ma
er hand outstretched, a single, perf
ed, her voice trembling for the a
hand like it was a wounded bird. His face, the one he used
ssed, his voice low but carrying
still in my hand. I hadn' t m
mping my arm just hard enough. The re
Brooke cried into Ethan' s custom-tailor
he' d sworn in this very spot five years ago. No
e crowd. "My wife... she' s not well.
t there. He was erasing me in front o
, but no sound came out. The shock
ided a weeping Brooke toward the hou
out. "My apologies. We have a pr
l uniforms came to our bedroom. Ethan
is tone final. "A retreat. In Montana.
t sound l
ded. "We can' t have these outburst
too stunned. As they put me in the back of a black
phant smile wa
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