“Oh, and you dropped the napkin you were so insistent on taking from the pub.” He crouches down, picking up a Boar’s Head napkin and holding it out to her. Look, I have a reaction. Of course, I do—a hot-blooded, red, break-up-with-your-boyfriend-now-because-I’m-bored reaction. I’m human, after all, even though I haven’t been feeling like one lately. But I keep my face schooled, even as she takes the napkin, balls it in her fist, and throws it into the bin under the nightstand. “That’s an odd thing to take from a pub.” I tap my lower lip, oh-so-interested in this unusual turn of events. “Did
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