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She locks eyes with him, sensing there’s no turning back now, and how can she deny him when he’s looking at her like that? Mouth slightly open, genuinely interested in what she has to say. “There’s this restaurant… In Maine?” she adds, the words coming back to her because another millisecond of silence and he would definitely think she was insane. “Freedom, Maine, to be exact-”
“Oh shit. Erin French, right? The Lost Kitchen-” he interrupts with the small nod of his head, knowing exactly where this is going. “The postcards.”