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It was nice to see Eimile had a healthy appetite, but at the same time, I wondered where all that food went, since she was skinny as a runway model. We didn’t talk much during dinner, as both of our mouths were preoccupied. Eimile let out a happy, contented sigh as she polished off the last bits of chicken paprikash. She volunteered to deal with the dishes, but I wouldn’t hear of it. She slumped on the sofa living room sofa, patting her stomach which, magically, was not protruding. ‘I think I want to steal your housekeeper,’ she said. ‘Or move here.’ Her cheeks had a healthy glow, partly from the food, partly from the wine. ‘Why don’t you?’ I sat down opposite her. ‘Move here, I mean. We have another guestroom, unoccupied.’ ‘I’ll think about it.’ She tucked her legs under her. It seemed such a nice moment, I didn’t want to ruin it by broaching an awkward subject. ‘Go ahead,’ Eimile said with her eyes closed. ‘Ask.’ ‘About what?’ ‘About me and Conor. I can practically see the question w

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