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from him. From me. Two weeks after we buried him.” He looked down at the carpet instead of at me. “I asked you to pack the nursery,” he said quietly. “Weeks ago. You wouldn’t.” “Because it’s his room. I’m not ready—” “It’s an empty room, Kate. It’s an empty room and it’s killing both of us.” “How do you think I feel? I’m the one who carried him. He continue reading …
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