“Crazy?” The laugh I let rip through the space between us is anything but sane. “Yes, crazy! You’re freaking me out. Relax before you do something stupid.” “Do something stupid,” I echo, stroking the side of the fire extinguisher. “Like fucking someone who isn’t your fiancée? Who isn’t the woman you’re about to marry in a year? The one who has already bought her dress and told everyone she’s marrying a good man? You don’t get to call me crazy. You don’t get to tell me to relax.”
