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... ’t still doing strange things just because he’d looked at me like that.
The silence stretched, but it wasn’t awkward. It was thick. Full. Like the kitchen itself was holding its breath.
Domenico turned back to the stove like nothing had happened, like I hadn’t just called him daddy in my apartment and felt my entire body react to it and he hadn’t just winked at me. He stirred the pan slowly, deliberately, wrist rolling with practiced ease, like he knew exactly what he was doing t ...
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