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Chapter 75: Sprig of Parsley.

I woke up to the *"grrring grrring"* ringing of Andrew's phone. Firstly, I hope it's not Quentin. And secondly, I still love Andrew. So my feelings aren't just an illusion rooted in near tragedy. I felt the mattress jostle as Andrew reached down to grab the phone. I can hear Capucine's French accent on the other line.

"Right here," Andrew said into the phone.

I think Capucine must have asked where I'm sleeping. The controlling, jealous, break-of-dawn maneuver is something I would have pulled in my former life, and I silently vowed that no matter what the circumstances of my future relationships, I will never behave that way again. It is selfish and unattractive. I opened my eyes to take a peek at Andrew's face and his face showed restrained annoyance—a reaction that I have seen not more than once. I shut my eyes back and pretended to be sleeping as he got out of bed and whispered fiercely in the hall that she is being ridiculous.

"Were you not there witnessing the same ordeal last n
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