Because there’s no way I can look that poor woman in the eyes and tell her I’m sleeping with her husband. “I wanted you to tell me the truth.” “Fine,” I admit, both my voice and resolve cracking like glass. “You’re right. I’m sleeping with him.” “And there it is.” I see the tendons in his neck coil before he goes still. “You have the nerve to stand there and judge me, but you’re no angel. You’re screwing a married man almost three times your age while his wife sits like a goddamned vegetable. You’re just as fucked up as I am.” I inhale a shaky breath, hating that he’s right. “I know.” My
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