Struggling to regain her composure, Maggie offered a feeble smile “Rosalynn, I’m alright.”

But the memory of Sanford’s rage was undeniably unsettling.

His tenderness in bed was quite the contrast.

“Would you Like to accompany me home?” Rosalynn inquired.

Instead of responding, Maggie simply glanced to Sanford, Lounging on the plush sofa.

“Maggie, come here.”

regained its calm. He beckoned

the tendrils of fear twisting in her

forehead as she

meddle

now cradled in Sanford’s arms, a glass of

both ordinary, both she and

the girls present, they were distinctly out

cordiality, but their eyes held nothing but

extended

“Thank you.”

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