I turned to her slowly.
“No,” I replied. “You walked into my life and made it a lie. This is just the part where I notice.”
I looked back at Steven.
“Eight years,” I said. “Eight years of ‘struggling,’ of budgeting, of you telling me we couldn’t afford things. Eight years of me believing we were building something together.”
His jaw tightened.
“You wouldn’t understand—”
“Then explain it,” I cut in.
Silence.
Because there was no explanation that didn’t sound exactly like what it was.
Betrayal.
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