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“I kind of like hi to meet your parents now?”

“They aren’t my birth parents, if that makes it any less aard for you,” he said casually as hefull well I would follow for an explanation So I didn’t ask for one Instead, I took a seat on a bar stool as he took a bottle of wine, lass of the white wine My gaze never shifted fro a small sip

“Coche-Dury Les Perrieres, Meursault Premier Cru?” I asked him

He looked at me oddly “How did you know?”

“What, a working-class girl like ht I made it clear I can be a little bit showy too”

He fought an urge to smile “Fine What year is it?”

I took another sip “Nineteen ninety-five?”

“You are one of a kind, Felicity Harper Wrong, it’s nineteen ninety-one, but still close enough that I’rinned as he drank

Rolling et to hear your story?”

“I’m shocked you’re interested”

I shrugged “Normally I wouldn’t be, but you piqued my interest Are you a tortured soul, Mr Darcy?”

“No, just a kid as raised by a loving, hardworking single ainst the counter next to me “My birth father was the rich and notorious playboy, Charles Darcy”

“The photographer?” I’d seen a few of his nude works in azines

He nodded “They met while my mother was a bartender She also worked as a part-ti who nant, he walked out on her She never wanted me to meet him anyway She said he sum on the bottom of her shoe”

“So did your looks corinned