“Nice shoes,” he said in a soft voice, tapping my foot. “You were right, they were worth hounding your father for.” “See?” I forced a smile when I felt like crying. “Told you.” “I’m not a good friend for you,” he added quietly, still crouching, with his hand on my foot. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.” “You’re better at it than you think.” “I need my job, Molloy.” And there it was. Finally. “So, you’re finally admitting it?” I heard myself whisper. “You blew me off because of my dad?” “And because you can do better than me.” Releasing my foot, he slowly stood up. “But you can do better
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