Would You Divorce Over a Cup of Coffee
“Back at the restaurant, did you even give me a chance to explain?”
Vincent opened his mouth, but no words came out.
“Bella, I was wrong,” he said, his voice practically a plea. “I shouldn’t have distrusted you. Come back to New York with me. We can start over.”
“Start over?” I laughed, a cold, sharp sound. “Vincent, do you even remember why I wanted a divorce?”
“Because of the Sophia thing—”
“No,” I cut him off. “It was because while I was clinging to a ledge forty stories up, praying I wouldn't fall, you were buying her a necklace and sipping coffee.”
Bab Populer