“I–I–I just don’t know what’s happening right now,” Sloane said, pacing two steps away from me before returning to pinch me. “You feel real. You look real. Am I real? Did I slip into some kind of alternate dimension? Oh my God, am I the main character from The Midnight Library?” “You’re not dying,” I said. “You read The Midnight Library?” Her voice rose a full octave. “I read all your book club picks,” I told her. “But why?” “Why? Jesus, Sloane. Why do you think? Because I love you. I’m in love with you. I’ve had the last twenty-some years to obsess over you from afar.”
