“What do you think you are doing?” He asked. Sweet sixteen year old Shari, who never once figured out the morning sleep hangovers she suffered monthly. Her mother tried to soothe her with tales of romance and love, of all the fineries that she would enjoy in the Palazzo, but all Lucia could do was cry until her cheeks twitched and her forehead ached. Ruth loved him. Lucy felt her heart splinter in her breast.
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