Just read the fucking letter. We can’t pretend to be married with you hating me. We’re supposed to be newlyweds.” “I can be a damn good actress when I need to be.” She walked back to the bed and tore open the envelope. “Yeah. Apparently, you’ve always been a good actress. You can turn it on and off whenever the fuck you want to.” “Takes one to know one,” she said. And when she pulled the letter out of the envelope, I turned for the door. Drudging up the past wasn’t something I wanted to do. But it was the only way we could move forward.
