“I’m handling it by moving on with my life.” Ouch, Madame. I know that response must have stung because he’s not saying anything. I squeeze my eyes closed and rest my face in my open hand. “I didn’t mean for that to sound so harsh. I’m sorry. I just meant…I was doing my job, Clay.” “Okay,” he mutters in response. Fuck, he sounds bitter. “Clay, I’m sorry, but—”
