Because I’m made of death. “No,” he countered. “Because you’re disciplined and clever and connected and you have the entire world at your feet and I’m going to spend the rest of my life working odd jobs to make ends meet. Look at me. Look around. I can’t give you anything you don’t already have.” It was her turn to stare, the breath fleeing her lungs. “I mean, Jesus, Vivienne,” he said, “you don’t have to remind me.”
