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... ing at his phone like it was a bomb that had failed to detonate.
He was shirtless, wearing only grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips. His hair was a mess from running his hands through it a dozen times in the last hour.
It was 2:00 AM.
He had tried to give her space. He knew she needed to blow off steam after the weeks she’d had, and he refused to be the controlling husband who put a curfew on his wife. But when midnight came and went without a text, and then 1:00 AM ...
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