“I’m the guy you fucked behind your boyfriend’s back.” I scrape my gaze down her body and back up before throwing the red lace nightie on the bed. “And probably the one you think about when you wear that piece of trash.” Her breath leaves her in a rush, and she bends at the waist as if I threw a punch to the gut. The words I’m sorry sit heavily at the back of my throat, choking me. I want to bury my face in her chest and whimper my apologies like a four-year-old, but she wouldn’t understand what I was apologizing for, and I don’t deserve her forgiveness. I’ll say whatever horrible things I
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