“So, she’s already been divorced, and she’s not even thirty?”“Mom, I love you, but you better park that judgment bus.”“I just don’t understand how a woman so young—”“Her husband cheated. So, she left his ass, even when she had nothing, because she’s got a spine—and I like that.”“But a man doesn’t cheat without a reason.”“Mom.” My mother was brainwashed by her generation. Still living in a time when everything was the woman’s fault, never the man’s. A woman’s place was in the house, making a home and raising children, not working as a bartender or an assistant at an investment company. I could lie to make my mother like Fleur more, but I didn’t give a damn whether my mother liked her or not. I was proud of my woman, that she left her cheating husband because she deserved more, that she would rather do the hard thing than the easy thing. She wouldn’t look the other way because she wanted to remain a rich woman. When she said she didn’t care about money, she fucking meant it. “He w
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