“Classic Lorenzo, avoiding questions like a real politician.” “I’m avoiding hurting your feelings.” “You’re a little too late.” The way she slurs her words makes me think she wouldn’t have admitted that under any other circumstance. “You’re drunk,” I say instead. “What I am is sick of all this and you.” Her voice cracks. “Were you ever interested in a relationship? Or was it all a part of your bigger plan to become mayor?”
