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Wish I Would Tell You

Wish I Would Tell You

Author:Xtream blaze

Finished

Billionaire

Introduction
..; She Broke Up, I Didn't! ...; Oh Yes, I'm Single!...; You Were My Crush ...; If It's Not Forever ...; Till the Last Breath ...; Someone Like You; Hold My Hand; When Only Love Remains; World's Best Boyfriend; The Girl of My Dreams; The Boy Who Loved;
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Chapter

  Everyone dresses up for the first day of work, Son ,' says

  Dad.

  "You will look good, Austin. At least wear it once and see

  for yourself. Just once? For us?' says Mom, dangling a blazer in

  front of me.

  'You made me wear a frock, said I would look good and

  took me to uncles's wedding. I can't trust your word now,

  can I?' I grumble.

  ‘You were three,' says dad. And you looked so cute, Son.'

  “He looked like a pretty girl,' says Mom.

  Dad looks at Mom and both their eyes glaze over. They

  smile and get lost in the memories of me as a child. My

  growing up has been hard on them. If they could, they would

  choose the three-year-old in a white frock over the twenty-

  three-year-old they are struggling to get into a blazer.

  'We should get the album out,' says Dad.

  'If I see that album once more, I will burn it!' I tell Dad,

  who is a nostalgia addict, an obsessive recorder and revisit-er

  of the past, and he stays put. "Give me the receipt, I will

  return the blazer on the way back.'

  'I lost it,' says Dad.

  Everyone dresses up for the first day of work, Son ,' says

  Dad.

  "You will look good, Austin. At least wear it once and see

  for yourself. Just once? For us?' says Mom, dangling a blazer in

  front of me.

  'You made me wear a frock, said I would look good and

  took me to uncles's wedding. I can't trust your word now,

  can I?' I grumble.

  ‘You were three,' says dad. And you looked so cute, Son.'

  “He looked like a pretty girl,' says Mom.

  Dad looks at Mom and both their eyes glaze over. They

  smile and get lost in the memories of me as a child. My

  growing up has been hard on them. If they could, they would

  choose the three-year-old in a white frock over the twenty-

  three-year-old they are struggling to get into a blazer.

  'We should get the album out,' says Dad.

  'If I see that album once more, I will burn it!' I tell Dad,

  who is a nostalgia addict, an obsessive recorder and revisit-er

  of the past, and he stays put. "Give me the receipt, I will

  return the blazer on the way back.'

  'I lost it,' says Dad.