“No, Winter. I like you. Stop telling me I don’t.” A wry laugh twists my lips as I drink and inspect the charming little bar. A sort of old-world Victoria allure graces the space. A perfect fit for the elegant boutique hotel. “I’m not likeable, Theo. People don’t like me. Not really.” I hold up a finger and give him a wide-eyed look, signaling that now is not the time for him to barge in with his tongue-wagging nice-guy act. “People respect me because I’m smart. Or because I’m accomplished. But they don’t like me.”
