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... less strokes, then shoved the papers back at him. "There. Are we done?"
"Yeah. Thank you, Naya. I know this has been hard on you." He tucked the folder away carefully, and there was something in his expression that I couldn’t quite read. Relief, maybe. Or satisfaction. "Listen, I need to tell you something. About Isabella’s surgery."
"I don’t want to hear about Isabella."
"Just listen for a second." His voice took on that pleading quality that used to make me cave every t ...
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