Jean I wake up to the sweet buttery smell wafting into our hotel bedroom. I inhale deeply, the scent a welcome replacement to the obscene scents from my memories from last night. Getting out of bed carefully, I pad through the room heading for the sweet welcoming aroma of food. My belly grumbles on cue, as I see Dante setting down two large coffee cups on the table. “You got us take-out?” Dante looks up at the sound of my voice, and it’s fascinating seeing him like this. So cozy, so domestic, but oddly it suits him. His eyes linger on me longer than usual before he nods at my question, sitting down, one arm outstretched motioning for me to sit do
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