“Know what I like about you?” “My jumper,” he replied dryly. “What?” “If you want to keep my jumper, just say so.” After he’d wrapped me in his cable-knit Aran sweater the night of the failed matchmaking with Hannah at The Hare’s Breath, it took me a full week to bite the bullet and return it. Laundered, because I’d slept in it all seven nights. “I wasn’t— Fine. I needed a hoodie anyway.”
