“Hi,” he answers. The syllable is rough, ragged, and I swear I feel it everywhere. “You look…” Hudson trails off. Cups the back of his neck with a large palm. Clears his throat. “Wow.” “Is my dress okay? It’s the only thing I had and—” “Wow,” he repeats. There’s more emphasis behind it the second time. He moves his hand to his chest. “Shit, Madeline. You’re beautiful. Fucking gorgeous.” “You said your favorite color was green and I—” I lift the dress at my hip, gesturing at my ensemble. “I thought it was festive.” “When I said green, I meant that exact shade. You in that outfit, really.” His
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