How about I tell you to leave and then you get up and storm out. But you don’t cry until you get home. Then you throw yourself face down on the bed and sob.” She stifled a laugh. “Oh, please. I’d at least down a shot of tequila before the sobbing began.” “Then what happens?” “You realize you shouldn’t have sent me away. That I meant my apology and risked a lot to be vulnerable with you. In your anger at yourself, you throw your phone against the wall and it breaks.” “Good one.” “It’s rather cliché.” “Yeah, but I like it. Then I come after you and bang on your door. Obviously it’s pouring down
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