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On the day of my hospital discharge, I watched him cradle our son with one arm while extending his other hand toward me, silently inviting me to take it. My fingers slipped into his, warm and secure.
"Victoria," he said, his smoky cedar scent enveloping me as he leaned closer, "once we get home, let’s get our marriage license first, shall we? We can plan the ceremony later."
My heart skipped a beat. Marriage. The ultimate bond between mates that would make our connecti ...
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