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“Months?”
“—and I’ve decided, ultimately, it comes down to one thing.”
“Which is?”
“You.”
My head gave an involuntary shake. “Me?”
Robby nodded, like saying it out loud had confirmed it. “It’s you.” And then, in a tone like he might even be giving me helpful advice, he said, “You have three deal-breaker flaws.”
The words echoed in my head as I braced for them. Three deal-breaker flaws.
“One,” Robby said, “you work all the time.”
Okay. He also worked all the time. But fine.
“Two,” Robby went on, “you’re not fun, you know? You’re so serious every minute.”
Um. Holy shit. How do you argue with that?
“And three,” Robby said with anticipation, like we were really getting to the clincher, “you’re a bad kisser.”
