“Should we also talk about the cozy way the two of you rode off on his motorcycle?” Matthieu spat. “My grandfather said he had his arms around you at the house as well.” I blanched. “Is there anything about you that isn’t a lie?”

“That’s not… that’s not how it was, Matthieu,” I stuttered, “I’m not with him, I’m with you.”

“What I think is that you’re on your own,” he said, and walked out the door.


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