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“I like that dress.” “You always say that.” “And I always mean it.” He leaned closer to me. “Can I get you a drink?”
“I didn’t like him.” “What did he do?” I shrugged. “He’s not you.”
“But if I had to put a label on it…” He sat with his forearms resting on his thighs, massaging his big knuckles with his large fingers. “I’d say you’re my lady.”

