“What did Morgan know about my husband?
Tasha: He’s probably visiting his mother. She’s old.
Morgan: At eleven at night?
Tasha: Stop. You should be encouraging me, not making me cry and feel like shit.
Morgan: Damn. Why are you crying?
I snorted and rolled my eyes while typing.
Tasha: I don’t need to hear how stupid and naïve I am for trying to not think the worst.
Morgan: That’s what I love about you. Always wanting to do what’s right. God, I need to see you. Touch you. Please, I beg you, meet me. I promise, it’ll be different with me. How can that man not touch you when you lay next to him? I want to kill him when I think of it.
More tears poured down my cheeks and I smiled despite the harshness of his words.
Tasha: I’m afraid to meet you.
Morgan: Please don’t say you’re afraid of me.
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