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“Not because he buys me roses. I still like roses. I’m not anti-roses now or anything.”
Despite everything, I smiled.
“But when I got off work,” she continued, “my car wouldn’t start. I called him. He said he was tired and asked if I could just get one of the cooks to jump it.”
Her face tightened.
“Then he sent me a picture of roses he had bought earlier, like that was supposed to help me get home.”
Hector’s expression changed.
Not judgment.