“I just want you to be honest with yourself. With me.” “I am,” she shot back. “No,” I barked, cutting her off. “If you were honest, you wouldn’t be so fucking wishy-washy—wanting me and then pushing me away. I’m done with that. If you were honest, you’d admit you’re miserable doing what you’re doing. But that’s on you. If you want to be miserable, then be my guest. You want so badly to be right that you can’t even tolerate the thought that maybe, just fucking maybe you and I could have something good. So yeah. I’m asking for it, Cass. Because I’m not a coward.”
