“How can you talk to him like that?” a woman sitting beside me asks. “You don’t get nervous and forget how to speak when he looks at you?” It takes me a second to figure out what she’s talking about, and then it hits me. Oh, Jesus Christ. “I’ve known him for a while,” I answer. She keeps her eyes on Hayes as she sighs. “Lucky. I’ve been coming here almost every weekend, trying to get up the nerve to ask him for his number.” I choke on my own saliva, forcing me to cough before I clear my throat. “Oh. Well, I hate to break it to you, but he’s married.” Her jaw drops. “Is he really?” “Yep,” I
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