hung up with Lydia. I couldn’t blame her for thinking it was nothing. She didn’t know Stephen the way my friends from Baird did, the way I did. She didn’t know what he was capable of; she didn’t know the extent to which I’d lowered myself for him in the past. Lydia was my oldest friend and though we’d grown up telling each other everything, there were things I’d started to omit. I decided I had to call Stephen—I couldn’t wait until after work. It had to be a misunderstanding; at the least he would deny it or explain it. Or maybe he hadn’t even been at Crif Dogs. Charlotte was probably wrong.
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