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My father, Steve, on the other hand, was pure warmth.
He raised me alone after Mom passed away, working double shifts at the plant so I could go to college.
The first time he met Ryan, he told me, « That boy looks at you the way your mother used to look at me. Hold on to him. »
I did.
The years unfolded quietly.
He raised me alone.
***
Ryan and I moved into a small apartment above a bakery.
We saved coins in a Mason jar for a real honeymoon someday.
***
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