have changed anything I had decided.
His voicemail came through at twelve forty-three in the morning. “Claire, please. Do not do this over a silly joke.”
A joke. That was how he chose to describe what he had said about me in front of our friends. Not the words themselves, but my reaction to them, was what he saw as the real problem.
That single voicemail told me everything I needed to know. It confirmed that nothing was going to change between us, no matter how many apologies he tried
