Page 51 of Haute Couture

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“What thefuck?”

“Right? Iknow.”

She laughs, and honestly if I were her, I guess I too would try to find humor in it all. I mean, between her mom and her sister, no wonder she found the need to fleeSavannah.

“What if I’m withyou?”

“What? With mewhere?”

“What if I am with you when you sit behind the wheel of acar?”

She eyes me, arms folded. Speculationevident.

“No one has ever offered that to mebefore.”

I tilt my head, lick my lips, and say in a low voice, “Maybe that’s because you’ve never known anyone likeme.”