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Blas, like his father and those that came before him, has his moorish ancestry etched in his face. His thickly lashed brooding eyes and hawkish eyebrows, his Galician nose and widow’s peak, his full lips and caramel dipped skin, to me, are my modern-day version to Brontë’s Heathcliff — sans the cape, tortured soul, English accent, and dark past.

Someday my daughters will want to know how and why I chose Blas. After 11 years, my reasons remain the same: his steadfastness, his courage, and his uncanny ability to tame a wild horse still make me feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

In truth, I’m grateful he chose me.   ♥

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