“than Christian was used to. And while it did feel like a step in some direction he wasn’t sure he was ready for, he did look good. He looked good and he knew it. And he hated that. But he could wear it in L.A. and not stick out like a sore thumb. He could even wear it to a Sunday dinner at Cassandra’s, and Christian almost laughed at calling their gathering a Sunday dinner, almost forgot about the dread that would surely be involved at a Sunday dinner at Cassandra’s. He’d grown ...up with Sunday dinners. A night when all the family came home to pot roast, sweet potatoes, pie if his Dad could be talked into it at church in the morning. His mom had always refused to make pie crust, always said just because she hated pie crust didn’t mean she loved her family any less. Just meant Dad was the one to make it. And Christian had loved that. Had loved how they were a team, had always wanted his own team.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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