Do I have to stay in the nursery? With the babies?”“Darling, you’re four years old—”“Almost five!”Her lips quirked. There was a wealth of interest and empathy in the gaze she bent on her small son.“You may stay in my room, if you like,” she offered. The child was appalled by the suggestion.“I can’t sleep in your room,” he said indignantly.“Why not?”“People might think we were married!
-Lisa Kleypas
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