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8

CARMEN

"So if my job is to make money, AND do the cooking and cleaning... then what the hell is your job motherfucker?" I gritted.

"I'll work when I get a fuckin' job. Like I told you," he snapped. "Get off my fucking back, Carmen. Jesus Christ. Give it a rest for once, will you?"

He trailed off his sentence, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"Your money is barely covering the bills. What the hell is the point of being at work all day, working stupid hours, if we can't even have any money to spare for ourselves?"

"What the hell? I'm 29, Daniel. I'm hardly going to be a millionaire at this age. I'm just about at the start of my career. Not the end of it," I gritted. "Forgive me for treating myself for lunch sometimes, when I have so much shit to handle and take care of without my man helping. Sorry I don't bring you enough money, princess."

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