“Then gave it to a prostitute,” I enunciate, leaving him under no illusion about what I think of his advice.
“Maybe she showed him a real good time.” His eyebrows waggle.
Meanwhile, mine appear to be perspiring. I slick my hands over my face. “He was probably clinically depressed. Or suffering a mental break.”
“People have murdered for love, faked their deaths, tattooed lovers’ names on their skin. And you know why?”
“Because they’re idiots.”
“Because love is worth that risk. It makes a person feel euphoric, like they could take on the world. I hear it’s like being off your face on coke.”
“Well, that settles it.” I throw up my hands. “I’m definitely having a heart attack because I feel anything but euphoric.”
Fin frowns. “I’m not finished. When we fall in love—”
“People don’t fall in love,” I grate out. “Oops! Deary me, I nearly tripped and fell face fucking first into a love puddle?”
“Don’t tell me you don’t do that,” he says with a small grin.
“What?” I pull at my cuffs. Yank off my cuff links. Tug my shirtsleeves up my arms. I feel like I’m frying!
“Eat pussy. Only assholes don’t reciprocate.”
“Why do I even bother?” I mutter, pulling at my tie next.
“I read a study a while back,” he continues, completely ignoring my distress. “It said our prefrontal cortex, our brain’s control center, drops into low gear when we’re in love, and the amygdala, our brain’s threat-response system, shuts down.”
“So we fall in love because we turn into driveling idiots? I’m not sure how that helps.”
“Maybe that’showyou fall. All those warning systems turn off. You behave differently. Unlike yourself.”
“I’m not sure that was a scholarly peer-reviewed article. Sounds more like a Pulse Tok.”
“You think it’s bull?”
“What I’m questioning is if you can read at all.”
“Are your palms sweaty?”
I look down and fold my fingers inward. “A little. Could Andrew have turned off the air-conditioning?”
“Does your heart feel like it’s beating fast? Are you lightheaded?”
Yes and yes. “Could it be a virus?”
“It’s more like your fight-or-flight responses. You know why. You’re panicking because you’re in l-o-v-e,” he says, spelling out the word gleefully.Bastard.
“No,” I bark, using the tone reserved for Bo. “Don’t be an idiot.” Not that it works on him either.
“You’ve got all the classic symptoms. And I’m not just talking about how you’re feeling.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“The ring from Garrard.”
“It’s a fucking monstrosity.” A manipulation. No need to mention how, for a split second, I saw an alternate life spilling out before me.
“The dog you’ve got living with you. Eve’s dog. I bet you’ve never had a pet, never wanted one. Not even a goldfish growing up.”
