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Summary
“Is there something on my face?” Esme asked, breaking Carlisle from his own thoughts. She wiped at the corner of her lip with her thumb.
“Pardon?” Carlisle asked, as if he had not been gawking at her for hours.
“You have been looking at me all evening,” Esme explained. “Do I have something on my face?”
Esme and Carlisle spend a quiet morning together in 1921.
