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95. Mrs. Foster

They stared at each other for a moment. “You don’t?” she asked quietly.

“No,” River said, shrugging off his jacket and laying it on the couch near the bed.

“So, are we going to…um…” she stammered.

She groaned inwardly. Why did she feel so tongue-tied in front of him? He was her husband now, for Chri...

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