“You’re killing me, Fitz. If that’s not true, the only explanation is that you don’t like me enough to ask me about myself. My family. My hobbies.” I tuck my fingers in the back pockets of my jeans and position myself a foot from him. “When Maren and Will speak unfavorably of you, I defend you. I’ve never visited them at work with cookies. I don’t bake their favorite brownies. I haven’t accompanied them to any parties. I’m your person, but you’re not mine. And that’s okay.”
