“because I didn’t agree that you were crazy. And he was accusing me”—I hesitate—“of being in love with you.” Warner exhales sharply. Touches a hand to the doorframe. My heart is pounding so hard. Warner’s eyes are glued to the wall. “And you told him he was an idiot.” Breathe. “No.” Warner turns, just halfway. I see his profile, the unsteady rise and fall of his chest. He’s staring directly at the door now, and it’s clear it’s costing him a great deal of effort to speak. “Then you told him he was crazy. You told him he had to be out of his mind to say something like that.”
