“I don’t care about other people,” he says angrily, shrugging away from my touch. “I care about you and me. Us. How do I work with you after this? There’s no escaping your judgmental looks or your shitty, hurt expressions. I can’t just let you drag me down and paint me as your cheating ex-husband.” “Troy, I would never do that. I’m a professional—” “You’re already doing it,” he counters. “Every day you waltz in here, totally unaffected by our separation. It’s so easy for you to make a mockery of me, and I can’t have that. I’m rising up the ladder here, taking on more responsibility every day.
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