The discussion wandered, and was punctuated with bread and butter. “John! Welcome! Happy Thanksgiving!” Cathy cried, ushering him deeper into the house. “Are you cold?” He asked her, cocking his head to one side like a puppy, so close that the heat of his words warmed her cheek. Men ought not to idealize any woman. Michelle was laid onto the back seat, her head cradled in Lucy’s lap.
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